


A Sworn Oath (A Knight's Promise)

by Violette_Pleasures



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Murder, Declarations Of Love, Drinking, Dungeon, Forbidden Love, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Negan (Walking Dead), Gentle Sex, Gentleness, Hurt Carl Grimes, Jousting, Kissing, Knights - Freeform, Loss of Trust, M/M, Murder, Neck Kissing, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Oaths & Vows, Prince!Carl, Protective Carl Grimes, Protective Negan (Walking Dead), Punishment, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Rough Kissing, Running Away, Sad Carl Grimes, Secret Relationship, Sex, Sweet Negan (Walking Dead), True Love, knight!Negan, tourney
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 04:12:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16654033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Pleasures/pseuds/Violette_Pleasures
Summary: The Grimes family are the ruling monarchs of the Kingdom of Alexandria. Carl is the young Prince and heir to the throne, preparing himself to one day rule the Kingdom in his father's stead. He has always done everything that was asked of him and been a good son. But a year ago, he was gifted an exceptional knight, Negan, who swore to protect him with his very life and Carl, for the first time in his life, chose to be selfish and allow himself to fall in love with his knight. Of course, no one can know or else both would be dishonored and Carl may even lose his claim to the throne, so they both have loved one another in silence. But now, after a tourney between the kingdoms has gone terribly wrong, their love will be tested in ways they never could have imagined. In the end, will their love stand strong and conquer every obstacle between them?





	A Sworn Oath (A Knight's Promise)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again everyone! Omg *screeching and undecipherable noises* I am so happy to be finally sharing this with all of you! I have been sitting on this idea and planning it out for over a year now, I believe? and to be done and posting it fills me with so much joy I could just die (of happiness ofc). I really hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's my baby so please be gentle. Comments and kudos would be greatly and immensely appreciated nvn

 

 

 

 

Cool, clean air ran crisply through the towers carrying with it the scent of all the sweets and the smokes of roasted meat the cooks were preparing for the feast that evening after the days festivities. Carl woke as usual, to one of his servants rousing him, clothes in hand. They helped him, unnecessarily, out of bed, turning back the heavy coverlet and immediately started in on washing him, leaving his sleeping gown on for the moment, while two others laid out his vestments.

 

Today was the Autumn Tourney and he would be wearing his finest, an ankle length vest

 

of rich blue velvets trimmed in gold, a pale blue tunic of the thinnest linen, black leggings and high black boots made of the softest doe skin. They'd even polished and prepared his decorative armor. He felt embarrassed wearing it; he had never seen battle and hardly felt worthy of wearing something other people worked their whole lives to earn. Laying on top of everything was his crown, a silver circlet inlaid with rubies and sapphires that used to be is father's when he was a prince. It always felt heavy.

 

Hot sticky buns still steaming, cured ham and hard boiled eggs were brought out on a golden tray onto the terrace and sat before him. Carl poured himself a small cup of fresh milk and sipped at it slowly, excusing his servants for the time being.

 

Alexandria was a beautiful kingdom, surrounded on all sides by a dense forest except for the southside where a mirrored lake lay at the base of the rolling hillside. Carl remembered how as a child, he had gone in search of mermaids in the lake, never able to dive very deep or hold his breath very long and always blamed it on that; if he could just go a little deeper, down to the black bottom of the lake, between the long, waving grass, maybe he would find a mermaid there.

 

The breeze coming in off the lake ruffled his long hair and he closed his eyes, soaking in the warmth of the sun on his fair skin. The seasons were starting to change and everything was a mottled painting of red and orange and gold. Soon, he'd be bringing out his furs to wrap up in and having a fire lit in the grate every evening, soon after that would be the first snows.

 

They usually visited King Ezekiel in the winters where the weather was just a little warmer and more manageable, but Carl hoped to maybe convince his father to let him remain here this winter. He loved Ezekiel like an uncle, a dear friend, but he really wanted to experience the cold and spend a little time on his own. All of this, Alexandria, her people, the castle, the land that stretched on for further than the eye could see would all be his someday and with his father gone he would be serving as head of the castle until he returned. His father was just barely older than he is now when his father passed away and left the throne to him. Carl wanted the practice, wanted a chance to prove himself.

 

“Morning, milord.”

 

Carl startled, nearly spilling his milk on himself, at the sound of his knight's voice. He never understood how the bear of a man moved so damn quietly and in armor at that. He rose with a small smile and made his way over to greet the older man. “Negan.”

 

“Milord,” Negan repeated with a sly smirk and the barest of bows, taking a step closer to his lord.

 

“Dearest knight.” Carl blushed as he placed a hand on the blackened metal of Negan's breastplate, palm skimming over the aged armor until it rested against the stiff silk of coarse grey and white whiskers. The knight turned his head slightly and kissed the center of his palm.

 

“Come here, you...” Negan growled playfully and hoisted the boy up into his arms, the cool metal a shock to Carl's inner thighs, but he paid it no mind in favor of being plied with the warmth of Negan's lips on his. The bite of the gauntlets on his backside and leg sent shivers coursing up his spine. The thinness of his shift did little to dampen the sensations of being pressed against the older man and he wouldn't have it any other way.

 

“I missed you last night.” Carl murmured between rough kisses that left his lips pillowed and red.

 

“Missed you too, little lord.” Negan bit at his plump bottom lip, sucking on it like a ripe piece of fruit. “Those damn knights coming in from the other kingdoms...you'd think they never competed in a tourney before! Dumb cunts couldn't figure out the hilt of a sword from the arse end of a horse.”

 

Carl just laughed at the older man's grousing. He knew it was inappropriate at the very least, if not punishable, for Negan to speak this way in front of him or any noble, but it was one of the things he loved about Negan, he enjoyed his unapologetic honesty and off the cuff way of speaking. It made him feel as though Negan always spoke the truth, never sugar coating the unpleasant.

 

“Laugh it up, little prince, if you had to deal with them, you'd feel the same.” He walked them over to the bed and laid Carl out across the top, wrinkling his finery, and pushed himself between his long, slender legs. “Do we have time for a little fun,” he jerked Carl's hips, pressing their pelvises flush together “before you're expected to go fop about?”

 

“Hey! I do not fop about!” Carl blushed indignantly. “And I think we have a few minutes before my presence is expected at court, not long enough though.”

 

“Hmm, well then let me give you a few more good morning kisses and I'll take my leave.” Negan smirked as he lowered himself onto one knee at the bedside, placing a hand to the inside of both of Carl's thighs, squeezing the meat of him.

 

Carl's breathing picked up just seeing Negan down before him like that, like he was bending the knee for him once again and promising to serve until death he did part. He bit his lower lip so hard he swore he tasted copper as he watched Negan slowly push his sleeping gown up until his rigid sex was bare in the chill of the autumn air. He whimpered quietly at the cold, but soon found it soothed away with the heat of the older man's tongue licking and kissing up the underside of his cock. A firm hand to his hip kept him from bucking up into the inviting warmth.

 

“So eager, can't let you alone for too long, can I?” That gruff voice never failed to pull Carl in; he imagines it as the same song the sirens sing that lull sailors into the rocky shores, just maybe not quite as pretty.

 

Sitting above Negan like this, Carl felt incredible. All that raw power knelt down before him and under his control gave him a heady rush and he wondered if this is how his father felt sitting on the throne.

 

Negan was beyond compare, as far as Carl was concerned, both in figure and in skill. He was tall, broad, strong and so beautiful. He stood six feet and a few inches, body corded with sinewy muscle from years of fighting. His skill with the sword had quick become a legend around the castle, everyone was too afraid to spar with him anymore and the older knight had taken to antagonizing a few of the boys just to get some action in where he could.

 

While all that made Carl's heart skip a beat, Negan's eyes were what Carl loved the most. They were the perfect shade of light brown, shining golden in the sunlight and silver in the moonlight. One glance at them and he knew exactly what Negan was feeling or thinking.

 

Suddenly, Negan swallowed him down to the root without warning, drawing him out of his thoughts, and Carl jumped, crying out at the surge of pleasure. The knight hummed his approval as Carl threw a leg over his armor clad shoulder and urged him closer. Iron and leather encased thumbs worked soothing circles into the hollow of his hip bones almost tickling him. Carl moaned and shuddered as he climaxed in the man's mouth, body going lax and joints turning to liquid.

 

Negan suckled at him until he went soft and slipped from between his lips. “Delicious as always.”

 

“Don't tease.” Carl protested weakly, arm flung over his flushed face, feeling like a mess. He was always sleepy and useless after a climax and right now he really just wanted to curl back up in bed for the night.

 

“I'm not.” The bed dipped as Negan sat on the edge, armor clinking, petting the inside of Carl's left knee. “You always taste sweet to me, like fresh cream and honey.” Carl blushed a deeper hue of red and determinedly didn't look at the knight. “Probably because you're such a pampered little babe.”

 

“You're terrible...I should have you thrown in a cell for that.” He planted a foot in the center of Negan's back and pushed with all his might, barely budging him at all. When he attempted to lift a second foot to help, Negan grabbed his ankle and drug him to the edge of the bed.

 

“Yes, but if you did that, who would fuck you right like I do?” Negan leered at Carl, all smug pride and arrogance, hand sliding up the inside of Carl's thigh.

 

“I-I'm sure I could find someone...to-to—mmm.” A hand wrapped around his flaccid member, teasing at the head and slit.

 

“Find someone to what?” The older man leaned in closer, giving the young prince his ear. “Speak up, boy.”

 

“Not...fair.”

 

“Mm, fighting fair is for children.” A knock sounded at the door and Negan slipped his hand out from under Carl's shift, quickly standing beside the bed as he should.

 

Carl sat up and straightened himself. He looked from Negan to the door, then again when he didn't move mouthing 'Answer the door!' with a jerk of his head. Negan shook himself and opened the door for the servants waiting to dress the prince, giving them a curt nod. “Morning.”

 

“We're here to dress, milord.” The elderly lady in the front of the group, a sweet but snappy woman and Carl's nursemaid, nodded her wrapped head towards the prince.

 

“I should hope that's what you were here for...” Negan nodded in Carl's direction. “...little lordling has been running about in not but his skivvies all morning. Can't go to a joust like that.”

 

“Hm,” She gave the man towering over her a very unamused look and sniffed, stepping around him. It was obvious she didn't like Negan, but Carl couldn't pinpoint why exactly. Before, she had been his only true confidante, but now Carl was older and things were changing, he was changing, even if he and Negan weren't inappropriately involved, he probably still would've chosen to speak to him about certain 'private' matters. There were certain things he couldn't fathom talking to her about.

 

“Up you get, come on now, can't lounge about all day,” She didn't give Carl a moment to speak before she was hauling him bodily out of bed, much to his indignation, and stripping him right there in the middle of the room.

 

“Can we not at least step behind my dressing screen?” Carl blushed and looked down at the stone floor.

 

“What for? You haven't a thing no one here hasn't seen before.” She shook out his obviously mussed clothing with a sidelong glance at the knight waiting patiently by the door. “No need to be bashful now, milord. I was your wet nurse afterall.” Negan barely choked down a laugh at that.

 

Carl's cheeks were as burgundy as the drapes on his bed. “Stop, that's quite enough.”

 

The other two valets stepped in behind her, immediately washing and perfuming his skin with bergamot and sandalwood oils. Negan just stood back and watched, arms crossed over his chest, that ever present amused look playing at his features as he hungrily looked Carl over. The older man made a show of licking his lips. Carl scowled, mouthing 'Fuck you' when his nursemaid wasn't looking. Negan gave him a mocking pout, answering back with 'you wish.'

 

“Right, have a seat. Lets brush out this mess of fuzz you call hair.”She pushed him into the chair set before his oakwood vanity, trying to pick apart the worst of the snags and snarls with her fingers. His nursemaid snapped and was handed a comb and water. Without any gentility but with years of practiced ease, and lots of grimacing and wincing from Carl, she tamed his curls into something more presentable, all glossy and waved. She topped everything off with the circlet while the valets tied his vambraces and ornamental gorget in place. “Ah, just look at you. You really look like a prince, child.”

 

Carl smiled softly at her through the reflecting glass, placing a hand over hers where it rested on his shoulder. “Thank you.” If the older woman looked a little glassy eyed, Carl wasn't about to point it out. He loved her dearly. She was like a second mother to him, so he didn't mind these little moments like this. If anything, he found it heartwarming in a way, that he wasn't even her real child, but she could still feel so proud of him; his own mother rarely gave him such meaningful looks.

 

“He's ready to be escorted, sir, if you will.” She turned and bowed her head the absolute minimum according to custom at Negan. “We'll just follow you down,” she smiled tightly at the knight like she knew the moment she turned her back his big paws would be all over her precious child “since we're all going the same way.”

 

“Of course.” Negan replied, smiling just as falsely saccharine as the woman before him. The tension in the room was palpable and Carl was ready to be free from it.

 

“Yes, alright, we're all leaving, we're going, as in now. Let's go, please!” Carl ushered everyone out of the room, barely giving Negan enough time to hold the door for him.

 

The winding staircase that lead from Carl's quarters to the main hall of the castle was steep and narrow with small archers' windows cut into the stone allowing slats of sunlight in. The heaviness of Negan's armor could be truly heard here, each clunk of a boot, each clink of chain mail, each creak of jointed metal, reverberated off the walls like the echo chamber at the church. His own steps were muted, the buttery softness of the doe skin making the barest scrape of leather on stone, and his armor was tauntingly silent, reminding him of how ridiculous it all was in the first place.

 

Carl worried he might fall down the steps, which he hadn't done in all the years since he had been moved up to his own chambers, but something in him knew that if he ever did misstep, his knight would be right there. He didn't have to look behind him to know that Negan's eyes were on him, he could feel the weight of them resting on his shoulders as calm and familiar as his own father's hand.

 

At the bottom of the steps, the archway heightened and widened out onto an open courtyard paved with tan sandstone that subtly sparkled in the bright sunlight pouring in over the high walls. Today it was alive with activity, the cooks and huntsmen were huddled in one corner dressing and roasting wild game over large fires, various servants were rushing back and forth with fresh linens for all the beds, banners in the blue and gold house colors were being hung from the inner terraces all coming together and connecting to the Avus Tree.

 

In the center of the courtyard was the Avus Tree, the oldest pomegranate tree in Alexandria, planted by his great grandfather and over a hundred years old. Story had it that his great grandfather brought it with him from the old kingdom to the south, a small sapling barely shoulder high grown from a slip taken from his favorite pomegranate tree, and used it to start the vast orchards that grew around the castle. It didn't produce much fruit anymore, but what little it did, his father always made sure to share with his sister Judith and him. Carl's jaw ached in memory of last year's fruit, the lightly sour-bitter tang of the jewels as they burst in his mouth, staining his lips and fingers bright red.

 

“Milord,” Negan cleared his throat, catching Carl's attention. “There's something I'd like to show you, if you have a moment.”

 

“Of course. Lead the way.” Carl smiled softly following after the broad shoulders and sweeping cape in front of him. His armor shone bright in the sunlight, cape swaying lightly in the breeze, making him really look like the knights of legend.

 

Negan lead them across the courtyard and out the eastern gate in the direction of the barracks and armory and took an abrupt left, heading towards the smith. The blacksmith was located right in front of the armory, large fires in high stone forge being all day and night by large, leather billows, hot coals gleaming bright orange and red. The heat radiating out from the smithery was intense to say the least, sweat instantly breaking out over Carl's brow and upper lip as he stepped inside the low roofed room.

 

“Sir Negan!” The smith stood up from where he was bent over his anvil, hammering out a piece of steel that would soon be a sword or spearhead, and walked over to greet Negan. Abraham was a large man, easily matching Negan in height with even broader shoulders and thicker arms. His bright orange hair always seemed to be standing on end, sticking out this way and that, singed in places from the fire, his thick mustache also bore matching scorch marks. He clasped Negan's forearm in greeting, smiling wide and jovial. “You've come for the piece you requested?”

 

“Yes, I'd like to see it, please.” The knight gave a curt nod in the direction of the workbench behind the smith laden with various weaponry.

 

“I apologize, I would've liked to have gifted it better, the tanner is still working on the leather for the scabbard, but,” Abraham turned and handed Negan two ornate metal pieces each about the size of a hen's egg “the locket and chape are completed.”

 

“Very nice.” Negan carefully examined the two small pieces with a discerning eye. “And where is the sword itself?”

 

“Here, sir.” From the collection on the table, Abraham withdrew a beautiful sword, thin and lighter looking than most, silver blade glinting wickedly in the fire light, with a golden grip and a large emerald inlaid in the pomel, swirling filigree decorated the hilt ensconcing the jewel and Carl was entranced. He'd never seen such a lovely sword before.“Took a while to figure out the balance for a shortened sword, but I think you'll find it quite satisfactory and if not, you can take it up with my apprentice, he could use a good whipping.” He chuckled quietly as said apprentice, Eugene, came back in carrying firewood looking between them all nervously.

 

“No, you're right, it's perfect.” Negan took a few practice swings with the beautiful sword and balanced it on his fingers. He pulled out a coin pouch and handed it to the red head with a polite smile. “What we agreed on and a little extra for how nicely it turned out. Thank you.”

 

They stepped out into the blessedly cool air, a fresh breeze hitting Carl's pinked cheeks. “Its a really beautiful sword.” He commented as Negan looked it over once more in the brighter light.

 

“Yes, Abraham really outdid himself with this one. Which is perfect, because it's for you.” Gripping the blade, Negan turned the sword around, offering Carl the grip with a very pleased look playing at his features.

 

“This is for me?”

 

“It is.” Negan gave a curt nod, watching the prince intently as he examined his new gift. “I had meant for you to wear it today, but that doesn't seem to be, unfortunately.”

 

“It's alright,” Carl stepped closer to Negan and placed a hand to his chest without thinking or caring as to whom may be watching their exchange. “Thank you, sir. It's lovely. I couldn't ask for a finer sword.”

 

“You could plant a garden with those flowery words.” Negan chanced reaching up and tucking Carl's hair behind his ear.

 

“I hardly think so.” Carl demurred, blushing. “I think you'll have to give me more lessons, though, before I can consider wearing something like this.”

 

“What're you talking about, little lord?” Negan turned and lead them back towards the courtyard. “You're the best pupil I've ever had. If you weren't a prince, I'd recommend you consider knighthood.”

 

“Maybe I just prefer being under you, sir. Under your guidance and tutelage of course.” He bit his lip in a vain attempt to stop the smile he felt threatening to form.

 

“Watch yourself, your highness.” The older man cast him a loaded glance over his shoulder. “Or I might be so inclined as to take you to my quarters and have you.” He paused, waiting for Carl to match his stride before continuing on. “...make you miss the tournament for our own lance and javelin throwing contest, hm? I'll even let you ride me like a steed.”

 

“You're incorrigible.” He couldn't believe Negan had managed to utterly fluster him for the second time that morning. They'd been together, as knight and lord, for over a year now and he still stood no chance against Negan's quick wit.

 

Negan shrugged noncommittally, looking unabashedly proud of himself for the deep stain of Carl's cheeks. “I'm only this way because you allow me to be.” Before Carl could react, Negan grabbed the back of his long vest and pulled it up and over Carl's face,

 

“Negan!” Any pretense of formality died in that moment, titles and stations temporarily forgotten, as Carl yelled and ran after the already retreating figure of his knight. Negan howled with laughter and kept jogging on.

 

}{}{

 

“Announcing their royal majesties, the King and Queen of Alexandria.” Carl watched from his place in the raised box where the royal family sat as his father walked up holding his mother's hand as she daintily stepped up and took her seat. His father wore one of his more regal garments today, a rich blue doublet trimmed in gold with shined, brown leather boots and a wolf's skin thrown about his shoulders. His mother immediately sat about brushing nonexistent wrinkles out of her blue silken gown as the herald announced Carl and his sister. “Announcing their royal highnesses, the Crown Prince and Princess of Alexandria.” They both stood and bowed their heads, Judith adding a slight curtsy to hers, and took their seats.

 

“Announcing his royal highness, the King of Regnum!” King Ezekiel strode gaily up onto the platform, just as smiling and cheery as ever, followed closely behind by his Consort, Carol. Ezekiel was dressed in his finest rich, dark emerald robes, draped artfully and heavily over him and his twisted, silver locks were pinned back with a golden tiger claw shaped pin.

 

Unfortunately, his beloved pet Sheeva had to be left behind for this journey and Carl already missed her presence dearly. The tigress was remarkably gentle once she got to know you and Carl was itching to introduce Negan to her if only to see the look of shock and terror on his face when Carl walked calmly up to her and sat beside her. The thought filled him with a childish giddiness.

 

“Do you think they made dresses to torture women?” Judith intoned leaning in closer to her brother.

 

“I'm fairly certain they were made to torture you specifically.” He laughed at the glare she gave him as she tugged and pulled at her corseting again. Judith was more the sort to wear breeches and run with the other boys about the castle and detested anything feminine. Their mother said she would grow out of it, that it was just a passing fancy of rebelliousness, but it's been five years with her dressing this way and it doesn't look as though this “passing fancy” was indeed ever going to pass.

 

“I can't breathe in this thing!” She groused, trying to find some way to sit that was comfortable. Her nursemaid stepped up to reprimand her for her fidgeting and the pout Judith shot her was spectacular. Worse yet, the elderly woman handed her a hoop with her needle work telling her that if she wanted something to do, her needlepoint could use some work.

 

“My poor, tortured sister.” Carl barely held in a laugh.

 

Judith's cheeks tinted red with frustration. “Don't you start with me, Carl! I will use your hand as a pin cushion!”

 

“Oh no! Please spare me!” He narrowly avoided the swat she threw his way by standing quickly and stepping over to speak with his father.

 

Excitement filled the air as a few servants went out onto the lists with straw brooms to level the lightly packed dirt once more before the event began. The entire kingdom and then some seemed to be there, some women wearing flowers of the Grimes house colors in their hair sat gossiping over a hot crossbun, a small boy waved a handkerchief sized flag and cheered brightly while vendors walked about, pedaling their wares and selling treats and mead.

 

The kingdoms only really came together a few times a year, mostly for tournaments or the occasional royal wedding, and there was so much to see, new wares to sample. Later, after the joust, Carl planned to convince Negan to take him on a turn about the market, see if maybe he could find a present for his sister, but at the moment, he needed to go track the man himself down.

 

He reached over and placed his hand on his father's forearm, letting him know he needed to go see his knight before the joust started. Rick just smiled and waved his hand in acquiescence, giving the back of Carl's neck a gentle squeeze before turning back to chat sedately with his mother. Lori only offered him a tight, but still beautiful smile before he turned to take his leave.

 

Back in the barracks the cacophonous noises took on a bawdier nature mixed with deep, gruff laughter and the metallic creaks and clangs of weaponry meeting armor or the grit of whet stone on steel. Most of the crowd were knights, but a few squires carrying water and ale to their sirs and archers with gleaming, polished bows and decorated quivers were milling about. The reason for his visit was of course in the thick of it, throwing back ales and laughing louder and harder than anyone else.

 

Everyone parted for him as Carl walked through the small gathering, head held high as his father had taught him. It was moments like this that reminded him of who he was. Having people from other kingdoms make way for him and give a bow made him feel important, not rightfully so in his opinion, but it gave him a taste of the power that would one day lay at his fingertips. He stopped right before the small table Negan was sat at, tankard in hand, smile mischievous and wonderful.

 

“Ca-milord!” Negan's eyes lit up in that special, secret way when they landed on him. He rose so quickly from the table, he banged his knees on the underside nearly upsetting it and everyone's drinks. He bowed to Carl, and Carl only really, and lead them out the back of the barracks for a little more privacy.

 

Once outside, away from prying eyes and ears, Negan pulled Carl to him and kissed his lips with an ale-warm enthusiasm. “What are you doing here, little princeling? Don't you know this is no place for something so pretty?”

 

“Don't _you_ know that I'm the crowned prince and can go wherever I damn well please, sir knight?” Carl crossed his arms over his chest, scowling playfully up at Negan. What a concept, he thought, that he should be so small yet over someone like Negan who could easily snap him in half. Probably without breaking much of a sweat. But Negan wasn't violent, not with him anyways. If anything, he was always tender and kind, almost too kind at times.

 

“Well look at you.” Negan punctuated each word with a harsh tap of the tongue, emphasizing the syllables. He chuckled when Carl stuck his nose in the air and grinned. “What have you come here for, sweet boy?”

 

“To give you this.” Carl pulled a simple, white silk handkerchief from his pocket and offered it up to Negan, keeping his gaze downcast, slightly hiding his face behind the curtain of his hair. He'd carried it on him for a few days before the tourney, letting it soak up the scent of his skin and the perfumes he always wore.

 

The look on Negan's face was considerably softer than it had been moments ago as he took the handkerchief and lifted it to his nose, quietly sniffing, humming approvingly. “Mm, smells like my boy.” He fixed Carl with a dark, longing look, hazel eyes glittering with golden flecks and promise and it made Carl's heart pound.

 

“J-just a small token.” He uncrossed his arms to pull Negan's gauntlet off and took the slip of silk and tied it around the knight's wrist, sliding the gauntlet back in place. “What are you competing in today?”

 

Negan flexed his wrist subconsciously. “The joust, swordsmanship and grappling.”

 

“I know you're going to do well in all of them.” He smiled softly up at his knight. Carl was surprised when the older man knelt and took his hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

 

“I'm going to win this for you, Carl.” His voice was full of conviction, his eyes sharp as they flicked back and forth between Carl's. He rarely called Carl by name and it felt special. Even more so because Negan had bent the knee; another sworn promise.

 

“Careful, Negan...” he chided, reaching out and cupping a beard covered jaw. “...don't go making promises you can't keep.”

 

“Now you're just insulting me.” Negan scowled at him as he rose to his feet, again towering over Carl. He placed a hand to the grey stone wall behind Carl, caging him in by stepping closer, and tilted his chin up with forefinger and thumb. “Do you really think anyone here could knock me off my mount? Hm?” His thumb rubbed across Carl's bottom lip leaving the taste of leather and oil in it's wake.

 

To say he felt flustered would be an understatement. Carl swallowed hard and parted his lips for Negan, breath hitching when he felt his thumb caress the inside of his lip. “N-no...I don't. I have...have the best knight in the whole entirety of the kingdom.”

 

“You have, hm?” Negan's voice was a low, gritty rumble like the heat of thunder just before a summer storm. He smirked when Carl shivered, leaning in and kissing the corner of his mouth. “Am I yours, dereworthy heart?”

 

“You are mine as I am yours...” The words were breathed against the older man's lips that were all too soon removed as Negan took a step back, leaving Carl stuck against the wall.

 

“You should be getting back now. The joust is about to start.” Negan offered his arm, which Carl gladly accepted, and lead him back through the barrack and out the front. With a final fond look, the knight disappeared amongst the small gathering leaving Carl to walk himself back to the gallery where his family sat.

 

The walk back was pleasant and necessary, the cool breeze helping abate the pink stain of his cheeks and nose. Negan always seemed to keep him blushed one way or another and he wondered if anyone, or everyone, at the castle had figured out why their young prince always seemed so rosy complected.

 

Judith sat cursing at her needlepoint as Carl returned to his seat beside her. It looked like maybe it was meant to be two swallows with a ribbon between their beaks surrounded by a circle of flowers, but in actuality, it looked like two angry robins fighting over a dark blue worm encircled by tufts of colorful fur. His sister was never meant to be a lady of the high court and practice these “girly” arts, she was more at home with a sword in her hand riding on the back of her giant draft horse of a mount, affectionately named Syrup.

 

Almost as soon as he got comfortable, the fanfare started up announcing that the joust was about to start. The first pair of knights were introduced, a Sir Paul of Regnum and Sir Dwight of Artis, both of the Southern kingdoms, as they trotted out on their fair horses stopping before Richard and Lori. Both men removed their helms and bowed their heads in greetings. Sir Paul was lovely, pretty almost, with long sandy hair and glass green eyes. Sir Dwight was leaner, with sharper features and flaxen hair and dark eyes. He didn't look like much, but Carl knew when it came to jousting, size wasn't always an indicator of victory.

 

Richard stood with a warm smile and spread his arms wide. “Let the games begin!” The crowd cheered brightly as the king retook his seat and both knights went to their respective ends of the list.

 

A flag was raised, paused for effect, and dropped and both knights spurred their horses onward. The sound of hooves along the softened earth was clamorous, their long strides kicking up clouds of dirt as they sped towards one another. Sir Paul notched his lance first, tucking it in tight to his side as he prepared for impact. Sir Dwight lowered his lance and his body, placing his center lower thus making it harder to unseat him. The lances struck, exploding brilliantly as they were rammed against each other's shields, but neither came off their horses. A few people booed as the knights passed one another, nodding chivalrously, to return for a fresh lance at the end of the list.

 

The knights urged their horses forward, again lances were lowered, each knight using their own technique, but this time, Sir Dwight was unseated, falling unceremoniously to the dirt and the crowd went wild. The people loved the knights who fell almost as much if not more than the one who won the tourney. Both men met in the middle, grasping one another's forearms amicably as the herald came down to announce that Sir Paul would be moving on to the next level and that Sir Dwight had been unseated and therefore was out of the joust. Sir Paul smiled brilliantly and waved to the crowd, Sir Dwight did as well, but of course, with a little less enthusiasm. Both knights bowed and took their leave.

 

Three more matches went by before Negan was announced. Carl's breath caught in his chest at the sight of his dearest knight sat atop his gorgeous grey-dapple gypsy vanner stallion, Nightmare, as he entered the list. He doesn't even hear what the other knight's name is, too transfixed and enamored of his lover. Negan flashed him a sneaky smirk as he pulled his helmet off to bow to the King.

 

The other night was similar to Negan in build with shorn short black hair and broad shoulders. It looked to be an evenly set match. Even though he had faith in Negan and his promise, he still couldn't help the swarm of butterflies that took flight in his stomach as the older man replaced his helm and trotted to the end of the list.

 

Again the flag was raised and lowered and both men took off. Nightmare flew down the list, onyx-black spots of his coat gleaming in the high sun, barely jostling Negan as he did so. Lance met shield and the opposing knight was knocked clear off his horse on the first turn. He stood, hunched slightly, looking winded and yanked his helm off looking back at Negan in disbelief. Negan removed his helm and smirked again, full of smugness, as he dismounted to shake the other knight's hand. His opponent looked as though he was still amazed at just how far Negan's strike had pushed him as both waved to the crowd.

 

The rest of the joust went off without a hitch, the lists were littered with colorful bits of wood like a rain of flower petals at a parade, and quickly, the final match of the joust was announced—Sir Negan of Alexandria versus Sir Morgan of Regnum. Sir Morgan was also someone who had garnered himself a bit of infamy like Negan and was known to be a bit of a wildcard at times. Apparently, going to war had changed the man quite terribly and he'd spent a lot of time wandering half out of his wits until the good King Ezekiel had found him and brought him home and now, apparently, he was doing just fine; whatever magic Ezekiel had worked had cured Sir Morgan of his demons. It was sure to be a great match between two well practiced knights.

 

Sir Morgan rode into the list on his own chestnut destrier, his armor gleaming and emerald cape flowing brilliantly. The calm etched into his features was almost monk-like, a sense of duty and honor emanating off him in waves. Carl liked him instantly even though they had never been formally introduced.

 

Both men sat tall in their saddles, nodding to one another as they lowered their helms and grasped their lances. The horses were ordered into a gallop and in a flash, their lances collided with their shields, neither moving so much as an inch in their seats. The crowd was uncharacteristically quiet as the horses trotted back to the end of the list; even Carl was holding his breath at the tension he could feel crackling in the air.

 

Again the knights sped towards one another and again neither came unseated. It seemed as though for the first time in years, that the joust may end in a tie. The third pass proved more eventful as Negan wavered in his seat as Sir Morgan struck him. Carl couldn't believe that Negan had been affected by the hit. He'd never seen him knocked from his mount, not even in practice.

 

Usually, the third pass ended the match but with neither knight knocked off, a fourth and final pass was permitted. Each man notched their lances and hailed their steeds towards one another at a gallop. Finally, Negan's lance struck true while Sir Morgan's skid and flew aside giving Negan just the right opportunity to break a lance.

 

“Since neither were unseated, it comes down to who has broken their lance more!” Side by side the master of games held the lances, turning and showing them to the King for a nod of approval. “With the shorter lance, Sir Negan is the winner!”

 

The crowd erupted with cheers and applause, waving flags and handkerchiefs. Carl had to physically restrain himself from rising to his feet and clapping just as loudly as the rest of the people; his mother would have had a fit.

 

As the knights walked up to the gallery before the Kings, Carl's father handed him the blue cushion with the golden laurels for the champion, his champion, knowing he would be more than eager to crown his knight. Carl stood and stepped down the few stairs that lead to the railing of the gallery and stood before both men who knelt respectfully.

 

“Sir Morgan. Sir Negan. You both competed honorably and magnificently today.” Carl bowed his head demurely to each knight, signaling them to stand with a gesture. “Sir Negan of Alexandria, step forward so I may present you with the golden laurels, a sign of your victory today.”

 

Fighting the blush he felt creeping up his neck with everything he had, Carl lofted the circlet of shimmering leaves and placed it gently on Negan's head. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments and Carl's heart galloped in his chest and he momentarily forgot himself, forgot he was standing before the people and his family. He just wanted to throw himself into Negan's arms and kiss him he was so proud. But the sounds of cheers and clapping swelled up around him again and the moment was lost.

 

“Let us begin the swordsmanship competition!” Ezekiel rose, arms extended, laughing merrily, and stepped out of the gallery followed closely behind by his King's Consort. They shared a private conversation as they walked away, adoration apparent in their eyes. Carl wondered if that was how he and Negan looked at one another.

 

The area set up for the swordsmanship competition was just off from the jousting lists, a small square of packed down dirt enclosed by a quick, temporary fence made of slender, hewn logs held together with nails and twine. It would also serve as the area for the hand to hand combat competition that took place afterwards before everyone would move towards the top of the knoll where the final event of the day, the archery contest, would be held. The nobles were quick to take their seats so the event could begin.

 

Carl sat on the edge of his seat, eager to see his champion once again show off his combat skills. Seeing Negan fighting, even just in training, never failed to make desire stir low in the pit of his stomach. Ashamedly, he'd even whimpered once when he'd caught Negan attempting to toss cabers with Abraham one morning. He lacked the finesse Abraham had, but still, watching his arms and legs strain with the weight, the sweat drip from his brow, was enough to make anyone swoon a little.

 

The first match was underway when Carl came back to himself and it was then that he noticed a familiar suit of armor, Sir Paul's. The man fought with an interesting double blade technique he'd never seen before, using both an arming sword and a long, double edged dagger in rapid succession. The idea was to strike your opponent and garner their points, one for the legs and arms, two for the torso and three for the head. Once five points were reached, your opponent was considered “dead” and the winning knight would move on. And Sir Paul was good, very good.

 

So good in fact, that he bested even Negan in the fourth round, much to everyone who lived and worked at the castle's surprise. Negan had gone undefeated for the better part of his stay and to see him lose was startling almost. Some of the younger soldiers that had gathered around to watch snickered at Negan's defeat until he shot them an icy glare which quickly put them in their place.

 

“Fucking little fop...” Negan's gruff voice startled Carl for the second time that day. He wiped at his brow with a rough towel, helm tucked under his arm. “Dancin' around like a fuckin' fairy out there.”

 

“Stop that.” Carl chided, grinning. He kept his voice low, only glancing back at Negan so as to not draw attention. “You're just mad you lost.”

 

“Maybe I am, what of it?” Negan shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Little shit didn't even enter the grappling competition so I don't even get to restore my honor...”

 

“Oh dear, what a sulk you're wallowing in.” Carl laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. “Wasn't it you who said that a good knight knows his strengths and weaknesses? He simply knows he wouldn't do well in hand to hand, he's too small.”

 

“Yes, but what honorable knight shoots a bow and arrow like a fuckin' girl?”

 

“Negan, I do archery.”

 

“But you're not a knight are you?” His tone was bordering on childish.

 

“Alright, I've had enough of this...go—I don't know—terrorize the new recruits or something until you feel better.” Carl turned and placed his hands on his hips, realizing belatedly how much he probably looked like his mother.

 

“Are you...” Hazel eyes narrowed in a way that could be read as either intimidating or perhaps joking. “... are you banishing me to my rooms?”

 

“That's exactly what I'm doing if you don't stop.” Carl was proud that he managed to not stutter.

 

“Uh-huh,” Negan rolled his tongue along his teeth and poked it at the inside of his cheek. The glint in his eyes was playful yet sharp, sending warning bells tolling. “I'll keep that in mind next time you're giving me a hard time during your training.” The knight took his leave with a stiff bow and Carl stood there a moment longer, watching him walk away.

 

A few girls and even some boys turned to gaze with obvious longing at Negan and it irked Carl to no end. One maiden paused, garnering Negan's attention with a coy smile and blushing cheeks and Negan, of course, smiled in return and spoke with her. She didn't dare to touch him, but her hands twitched as though they wanted nothing more than to rest on the older man's chest and she kept her breath high in her chest, pushing her ample bosom out. Carl hated her instantly.

 

He knew Negan was attractive, but he was _his_ , Carl's, and sometimes he wished he could tell everyone so they'd leave his knight the hell alone. But then, he looked at the maiden's form and then his own and felt inferior to her feminine beauty. He had to wonder too if Negan wouldn't be happier with a partner he could talk about and openly write ballads for and dance with at feasts, unlike with them where they had to hide and sneak and keep everything a secret.

 

Carl liked to think that he wasn't lacking in confidence, in most everything he felt proficient and comfortable. But when it came to Negan, it was like none of that mattered any longer and Carl became an insecure mess even though Negan had done nothing to make him feel this way, never accepted so much as a flower from an unmarried maid. It was all him and he knew it and it was maddening. Maddening that something like love, something that made one feel so wonderful, light as air, could shake him down to his very foundations and suddenly make him feel things he thought he was above like jealously and inadequacy and bitterness. Love had taken him apart piece by piece and had yet to fully put him back together again.

 

Almost as if he could hear Carl's inner turmoil, Negan looked up and met his gaze. They held for a moment, simply looking at each other, when he offered Carl that small, real smile he reserved just for him and Carl felt like he could breathe again. He turned and retook his seat, glancing one last time over his shoulder as Negan left the young woman standing there looking rather disappointed and smiled to himself.

 

Unsurprisingly, or well, maybe a little surprisingly, Sir Paul took the swordsmanship contest prize. It had been a close call for a moment when a tall, blonde, female knight gave Paul a good run about the fighting area. She was taller than Sir Paul and very broad shouldered and chested for a woman, but was very quick and nimble and proficient with the sword.

 

“My Champion!” King Ezekiel's voice resounded with joy as he strode to stand before his knight. He placed a circlet of silver laurels upon the young man's sandy brown hair with a kind smile and a pat on the shoulder. “You've done so well in all of your events today, showing exemplary honor and strength of both body and character. You have made me and your kingdom proud!” Sir Paul seemed to blush as he ducked his head into a small bow with a shy smile.

 

}{}{

 

There was a lull between the events and most rose to get drinks or to fetch a treat from one of the vendors milling about.

 

“Let us get a sweet, brother!” Judith whispered, taking Carl's hand and tugging. She pointed to a baker selling what looked to be long sticks of bread dipped in some sort of chocolate sauce. “I want one of those!”

 

“They do look good, whatever they are.” He grinned as he looked around. The sticky buns, browned and gazed with cinnamon and frosting, and apple dumplings, golden and flaky served with crème fraische. were calling to Carl's sweet tooth, but his mother was eyeing both him and Judith as if to say 'you'll spoil your dinner.'

 

As per usual, Judith couldn't be bothered with listening and tugged at Carl insistently, grumbling “C'mon on brother! C'mon c'mon c'mon!” under her breath until finally he gave in to her demands and took her hand.

 

Carl turned towards his mother and father, making sure he caught their eyes before he spoke. “I'm going to escort Judith to go get a treat. We'll return shortly.”

 

“Take Judith's nursemaid with you.” Richard assented with a smile which shone brightly in stark contrast to his mother's continually sour expression. Carl never understood how the two of them managed to get along well enough for them to have conceived children. The marriage had been arranged of course, as was the fate of all nobles, both he and Judith would eventually suffer the same, but most couples usually grew fonder and more together the longer they were in each other's company, yet Lori had remained just as frosty and unyielding as the day she had arrived, according to his nursemaid.

 

“Please hurry back and do try not to stain your clothing.” Lori conceded knowing that a true lady never disagreed with her King, at least, not before the eyes and ears of so many onlookers anyways.

 

“We will, mother!” They chirped in chorus and took off from the gallery, Judith's nursemaid calling after them in reprimand.

 

They'd been dodging servants and nannies and maids since Judith was able to run. It used to be their favorite game, hiding in one of the many rooms of the castle, sometimes under beds or in armoirs, anywhere dark and narrow and hard to get to, and waiting for their very flustered guardian to find them. A few times they had been delighted with the whole house of servants looking for them.

 

One time they stayed hid for a whole day and finally their nursemaids had caved and called one of the huntsmen to come up with his hound to sniff the children out. Judith had screamed in surprise when a very slobbery tongue and wet nose poked her arm where they were shoved up into a nook inside the chimney of one of the guestrooms. They had gotten a sound spanking that day for causing such grief and then again for ruining their clothing with soot.

 

They slowed to a casual stroll as they came upon the stalls of food, their very flustered maid finally catching up to them with an exasperated huff. Judith immediately honed in on the chocolaty confection she had spied earlier and quickly had her hands wrapped around one for the cost of a copper coin.

 

Carl took a little more time choosing what he wanted to get. He knew there would be sweets at the banquet later, but which ones? It was fall and the apples were ready for harvest and with it being one of the things Alexandria was known for, surely apple dumplings would be served. The sticky bun it was. He bought one of the gooey snacks and a cup of sweet mead for a few copper coins.

 

“Oh, this...this thing!” Judith sighed around a mouthful of sweet treat, mouth edged with chocolate that threatened to drip down off her chin. “It's marvelous! Taste it!” She shoved the stick right in Carl's face making him laugh at her enthusiasm and took a bite, the taste of chocolate and vanilla cream coating his tongue. “Isn't it great?”

 

“It's really good.” He agreed with a nod, wiping chocolate off his lips and taking a sip of his mead to wash it down. “But too sweet for me.”

 

“Gimme some of your mead!” Judith reached out with a grabby hand to snatch Carl's cup, luckily he jerked back in time.

 

“No, mother would kill me! She's already upset father is letting you drink wine with dinner now.”

 

“She won't know.” Judith pouted.

 

“Yes she will.” Carl intoned, jerking his head back at the older woman watching them like a hawk.

 

“It's no fair. You get to have all the fun and do all the best things! I wish I were a boy.” This was definitely not the first time Judith had attested to this and surely wouldn't be the last.

 

“But if you were a boy, you'd be in competition with me for the throne and just waiting for me to die so that you could take it.” Carl teased, trying to get his sister to smile. After a moment he spoke again. “I know, dear sister, just give it time. You're growing and learning more every day. Your time to do all the 'fun and best things' will come.”

 

“And you, dear brother, are starting to sound more and more like father every day!” Judith sassed back at him with a cheeky grin. “Already practicing for the day you'll be King with a couple of wailing babes of your own wandering about the castle?”

 

“Oh, please, do not speak of children and me in the same breath. I am not ready for that discussion!” Carl blushed at the thought of someday marrying and bedding a lovely princess from a foreign kingdom and producing an heir, a small replica of himself to take over after he stepped down, passing on the Grimes name to someone he hadn't even met yet. But in his heart of hearts, he wanted no one but Negan.

 

“So how does your beloved knight feel about you vastly approaching the age to marry?” She clasped her hands behind her back and twisted from side to side, acting as a love sick girl, as she sing-songed at him.

 

He tried to compose himself, looking around at the crowds gathered in the market, and cleared his throat. “I-I don't know what you mean.”

 

“Liar!” Judith pointed an accusing finger at him. “Everyone knows you two are married in all but name. You'd have to be blind to miss the way you two act around one another. Tell me, has he writ you a ballad yet?”

 

“Stop!” Carl shoved at her playfully, clearly embarrassed, as she laughed loudly at him.

 

“So it's true! You do love him.”

 

“...perhaps.”

 

“What a pair we are!” Judith sighed, attempting to sling an arm around her brother's shoulders but being held back by the confines of her dress. She growled briefly, cursing the cloth under her breath, and took his arm instead. “You wishing to be with your knight as a woman would, me wishing to be free as any man would be.”

 

“What a pair we make indeed.” He smiled half-heartedly down at his sister, mulling things over.

 

}{}{

 

By the time they'd eaten their sweets and retaken their seats in the gallery, the fenced in area had been cleared for the grappling match and the first two knights were stepping into the ring. Both men were down to nothing but their leggings and boots, hands caked in white chalk. Normally, this would be entirely unacceptable, but this was a contest of brute strength and force, meant to showcase the male physique at its finest, taken from the ancient Greeks who wore little more than loin cloths to compete; Carl considered the leggings an improvement.

 

The first two competitors were great big bears of men, tall, sturdy and thickly muscled and intimidating. They threw themselves into it wholeheartedly, trying to knock their opponent to the ground to pin them. The object of the game was to pin or otherwise incapacitate your opponent and the match carried on until one man surrendered or yielded.

 

The match was intense, grunts and heaving breaths filled the air as the two men fought and struggled against each other, but, in one swift move, the red haired knight took the other by surprise, knocking his feet out from under him. Carl flinched; he couldn't imagine being treated that way only to stand up and ask for more. The red haired knight was on his opponent immediately, pinning him down until he tapped the ground, yielding to him.

 

Negan was right behind the first pair, matched up again, with the knight he had bested in the joust. Standing like this, side by side, they almost looked like they could be brothers. The only real difference was the amount of grey in Negan's beard compared to the solid black of the slightly younger man.

 

Carl was leaning forward, nearing the edge of his seat once again watching the match play out. Rather quickly, maybe wishing to reclaim some of his honor from the joust, the opposing knight grappled Negan to the ground and pinned him. Negan looked mildly impressed, but didn't yield. They stood and the next round started, Negan effectively dodged the grabs the other man made at him, surprisingly agile for a man of his years. Carl couldn't figure out what Negan was doing, why he wasn't advancing, why he kept dodging and defending until he saw the other knight begin to slow—he was waiting for his opponent to tire himself out. With an impressive show of strength, Negan got his arms around the man's torso and lifted him off the ground, flipping and slamming him bodily into the dirt and the other knight quickly tapped out.

 

Negan crowed triumphantly, arms raised in the air, showing off the muscles and scars of his chest and back. It wasn't exactly knightly to act this way, but he looked so good smiling and happy with his victory under his belt.

 

With that same enthusiasm, Negan took the grappling tournament by storm, pinning and forcing everyone he came up against to tap out, even those many years his junior were put in their place. Some of the matches were close, especially when a much larger knight pinned Negan down by the throat, but he quickly turned things around and came out victorious. He had a split lip and a few lavender colored bruises were seeping into his cheek, chin and arms, but he looked all the more resplendent for it.

 

“You've triumphed again, dear knight.” Carl whispered with a private smile as he placed the bronze laurels atop Negan's raven and ink colored locks.

 

“I told you I would win this for you.” The older man's eyes sparkled, flecks of copper shining like stars, as he took Carl's hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, just shy of his ring, right in front of everyone. As he rose, his bare chest and stomach flexed and Carl was feeling weak in the knees.

 

While the crowd cheered once more, Carl tugged Negan a little closer, standing on tip toe to whisper “Do hurry back to me, my champion.”

 

“My feet have wings, my dove.” Negan smirked at him, eyes half lidded and dark with want. Carl laughed at the oft and over used romantic line earning him a hip check as Negan exited the ring to go wash and redress.

 

}{}{

 

“Archers! Take your stance and steady your arrows!” The herald called, sonorous voice echoing across the knoll and surrounding hills of Alexandria.

 

Three hay bales were positioned across the dip between the hill where the onlookers stood and the one next to it with large bullseyes painted on them in vibrant red, green and blue. The archers would shoot in sets of three and whichever was furthest from the center was eliminated. After the bales, the targets became smaller and harder, clay pigeons positioned both on the ground and tossed in the air. The final round consisted of small hoops with ribbons being tossed into the air for them to shoot through and catch with their arrows, showcasing their skill of hitting both a small and moving target and was always a favorite of Carl's.

 

The first three archers stepped up to the mark, notching their arrows and drawing back, awaiting the call to fire. A long pause filled the air with suspenseful silence, dragging out the moment before the flag was waved and the herald called “FIRE!” and arrows whistled through the air, the colorful feathers glowing in the sunlight, as they found their marks.

 

The crowd applauded the archers as a few men checked over which arrows hit most true. With a signal from the second hay bale, the archer from Artis was eliminated and the next three took their places.

 

Among the new group was a scraggly looking young man with dark, dark eyes and greasy, jet black hair with an odd scar on his forehead half hid by the deep oxblood cloak he wore. Something about him set Carl's instincts off, his presence felt wrong, like he carried with him a ghastly miasma. He was about to ask his father about the man when he noticed Negan walking up the hill towards him, golden laurels flickering in the setting sun like flames sat atop his head and couldn't help smiling at him, happy to have him at his side once more.

 

Suddenly, there was an odd whistling and then a loud, collective gasp followed by screams and when Carl turned back to look out onto the knoll, he felt inexplicably lightheaded and the vision in his right eye turned red then went out like snuffing a candle. He reached up to touch his face and felt it—the wooden shaft of an arrow was protruding from his right cheekbone just below his eye.

 

Panic sat in, but his body wouldn't listen, his fingers slipped uselessly through the blood as he tried to dislodge the arrow. He turned towards Negan's bellowing, hoarse scream, frozen with fear at the sheer terror he saw written so plainly across his knight's features as he ran towards him. He was spun around and saw his father's and sister's faces staring down at him. When had he fallen down? Why was he laying down when all he wanted to do was get up?

 

“Carl!”

 

He wasn't sure who was calling to him at this point, his father, Negan, someone else entirely, but he was already sinking, so deep down into the pain he was finally starting to feel radiating out from his socket, down his cheek to his jaw and further into his neck. He shut his eyes and fell into the darkness.

 

}{}{

 

“Carl! Wake up! Carl!” Gods, Carl felt so cold and lifeless in his hands, face unnaturally pale and lips taking on a blue hue. Negan cradled the boy to his chest, not letting anyone, not even Richard take him from him. No, Carl couldn't, not yet...

 

A flash of dark red in his periphery had Negan turning his attention to the source of his devastation, the unknown archer, still standing there smiling. With a snarl, Negan carefully laid Carl into his sister's waiting arms and rose to his feet to commandeer a horse from one of the guards. He didn't even ask, just shoved the other man aside and climbed onto the saddle, kicking the horse roughly into a high gallop, speeding after the weasel as he turned tail and headed into the forest nearby.

 

Negan was seeing red, angry, thick, miresome red. He could feel black, scalding anger welling up from inside his ribs and trudging slow and thick through his veins like mud. The setting sun made things more difficult to see in the canopy dense darkness of the forest, but he raced after the man, staying hot on his trail.

 

“Don't kill him!” King Richard's voice called from behind him, now sat atop his own mount and following steadfast after Negan. “I want him brought in for questioning!”

 

Negan didn't answer and just kept riding, getting hit in the face with twigs and branches as he pushed the horse into denser and denser parts of the forest until finally he was forced to dismount and go by foot through the thick brambles and foliage. He kept his footfalls light as possible while still moving at a quick enough pace to catch up with the man that hurt his lover.

 

He couldn't believe this was happening. How had this man even gotten into the castle grounds? How had no one been there to stop the arrow? If he had been there, he would've taken it for Carl, no he would've stopped it before the man even thought of firing. If he had been there—

 

Gods, he hoped Carl was going to make it. He had to. There was no other option. He had to make it through this or Negan wouldn't. He had vowed to himself from the first day he met Carl, so bright and alive and so so beautiful, that if he ever allowed anything to happen to him, he would drive a blade into his own breast for failing him, because he knew, when he'd taken Carl's hand and instantly fallen in love as he pressed his lips to the back of it, that the only way he would ever allow Carl to get hurt would be if he were dead.

 

But this? Carl getting hurt due to his own negligence? It was worse. There was no way he could go on living knowing what he had allowed to happen that day all because of his damned vain glorious pride.

 

A rustle in the bushes just ahead caught Negan's attention and he stalked towards it, cursing internally as the thundering hooves of the King and his men begin to rattle the forest. His prey must hear it as well because his pace quickens and he changes directions when they near the river's edge.

 

The Colubrosus River spanned too far and was at places to quick moving for anyone to swim across which meant the piece of refuse had to have a boat moored along the shore somewhere. Negan just had to find it before the other man did. He peered through the dark, trying to decipher at what point in the river he was approaching and once he had his barrings, rushed down the shoreline, careful not to slip on any of the smooth, round stones surrounding the river. Just ahead, where the waters were calmer, he saw a slip of red slithering between the brambles headed towards what must be a boat covered in a waxed canvas tarp.

 

Negan's sword was drawn before he even realized, running towards the stranger at full speed and tackling him down to the ground. With a roar, he drove his sword into the man's shoulder, pinning him to the spot. The man just laughed at him, barely wincing as Negan twisted the sword into the sinewy muscle of his shoulder joint.

 

“Why?” Negan snarled, teeth bared.

 

“Oh what a good lapdog are you! Don't you ever get tired running around with your dick out for your masters?” He laughed even more when Negan backhanded him across the jaw, gauntlet splitting his lip.

 

“I asked you a fucking question, you miserable cunt!” He ripped the hood back from the man's face exposing the odd 'w' shaped scar on his forehead.

 

“I did you a favor.” The man smiled a bright red smile, crooked, rotten teeth stained with blood. “I freed you.”

 

“Oh. Is that what you did?” Negan smiled down at the stranger just as wide and sweet as he could manage and withdrew his sword from the man's shoulder. “Then allow me to free you from this arm.” With a sickening squelch and a vomit inducing crunch, Negan brought his sword down on the man's shoulder joint again, tearing through the flesh and rending the limb from his torso.

 

The man's screams did little to assuage his bloodlust, but it was a start. He clamped his hand down over the stranger's mouth and nose, leaning in closer. “Quit your goddamn caterwauling and answer my fucking question.”

 

“The arrow wasn't even meant for the little prince!” The man choked out. “It was meant for the good King Richard but, lo, young Prince Carl was too appetizing for me to ignore, so I loosed my arrow at him with the intention of taking out his damned father after.” He shuddered, body slipping into shock from blood loss. “I wanted him to see his son die just before he joined him.”

 

“Who sent you? And by the gods, you better fucking answer plainly unless you want me to free you of another limb!” Negan stood and kicked the man in the ribs for good measure, smirking at the winded cough it earned him. He kept his sword trained on the other's neck, the tip poking dangerously into where he knew a large vein ran.

 

“No one sent me, yet everyone sent me.” He tipped his head back chuckling, lips starting to turn as blue as the river itself. “My tribe despises the Grimes, it is known, and when I heard about the tourney, I offered to go and finally do away with them myself! My people thought I was crazy, that I would never get close enough to accomplish anything, but none of them raised a voice to stop me either. So here I am...on my back, at your mercy, freed from my wretched arm,” he paused to laugh again madly “probably about to breathe my last breath, but you know? At least I got to see that young bitch of a prince breathe his fucking last before I did.”

 

Rage bubbles and boils over inside Negan, his vision flickering between white hot fury and a red voracity for blood, for this man's blood to be spilled all over the forest floor, and he starts hacking. There is no finesse to what he does, how he rips the man limb from limb like a mad beast, just hard swings of his broadsword meant to maim and chop like swinging an ax to chop firewood. He realized belatedly that he was screaming and that the wetness running down his face wasn't just blood and sweat, but tears, tears that stung as they blurred his vision.

 

Exhausted, he collapsed to his knees before the smear of red that once used to be a man. He hung his head in his hands as he sobbed bitterly. He could barely be considered a man himself at this point, full of pallid sorrow and recalcitrant paroxysm.

 

“Negan...” Lifting his head, before him stood King Richard, blue eyes full of alarm that quickly turned to vexation when he looked on at the aftermath of Negan's fury. “What—what have you done?”

 

“I don't...I—he...” There really was no excuse for how Negan had reacted. He knew that to normal people, to himself, this was something utterly frightening and unnatural. So he fell silent, head bowed in shame.

 

“Guards! Restrain him and put him in one of the cells until I can figure out what to do with him.” Richard placed his fist on his hip, wiping his beard with the other in nervous habit, and looked down at the ground. More than anything, beyond the shock and upset, he looked disappointed in Negan and Negan instantly felt ashamed. “If he wishes to act as an animal, I shall cage him like one.”

 

Negan didn't fight as his wrists were bound, as he was lead back to the castle, as his armor was stripped away leaving him in nothing more than thin undergarments as he was placed into a dark, dank cell in the furthest reaches of the dungeon. It was what he deserved. He deserved to rot here, to pass unnoticed and fall to decay, flesh sloughing from the bones of his putrid corpse and seeping into the cold stone.

 

}{}{

 

The first thing he saw was the orange flicker of fire, the tan blur of the beams running the length of the ceiling and two blobs of color that had to be people. He flexed his fingers trying to will his body to move, finding the dense richness of wolf fur under his fingertips. The smell of smoke and medicinal herbs filled his nose. His head throbbed in time with his pulse but as he reached a hand up to touch it, he was met with the coarseness of linen bandaging.

 

“Carl? Carl! Oh thank the gods!”

 

Judith. That was Judith's voice.

 

“Good, he's finally coming round. I shall go fetch your mother and father.”

 

His nursemaid.

 

“W-where am I?” Carl tried to sit up, but his head felt like it weighed a million pounds and no matter how much he blinked, his right eye felt like it just wouldn't clear. “My eye...Judith...what's wrong? Why can't I see out of it?”

 

“You're in the infirmary, dear brother.” Judith reached out a small hand and took his. He could smell the delicate lilac perfume she always wore emanating from her long, blonde locks as she leaned over to hug him.

 

“But...my eye--?”

 

“Brother...it...it's gone.” Judith's voice was so soft and full of regret. One might think that it was her own doing that had lead to this outcome she sounded so guilty.

 

Carl was silent. Memories of what had happened at the tourney came back to him in stilted drops of light, like sun spots dancing before his eyes. He remembered Negan competing in the joust, swordsmanship and hand to hand. He remembered getting treats with Judith and discussing their mutually misaligned stars. He remembered standing on the grassy knoll to watch the archery competition. He remembered the screams of terror, the pain in his eye, the blood running down his face and his eye...

 

He lifted a hand to touch the bandaging once more, feeling the hollow of his socket beneath it. The urge to cry held onto his windpipe like a death grip, strangling him but he refused to let any of it out. He swallowed thick and took as deep a breath as he could manage. It was then that he realized the one person who was always present at his side was absent.

 

“Where's Negan?” He pushed himself upright, leaning back heavily into the pillows. “Where is my knight?” When Judith didn't answer right away, panic sat into him, fear of the absolute worst filling him with dread. “Is he...did he not...?”

 

“He's alive still.” Judith paused, sighing out world weary. “But he's been detained, Carl. Father has cast him into the dungeons with no end to his sentence in sight!”

 

“What?! Why?!”

 

“The man who wounded you took off into the forest and Negan chased after him, father shortly after Negan, and well, Negan found the man first.” She picked at a loose thread on her doeskin breeches. “Carl...what he did to that man...it wasn't Negan.”

 

Carl swallowed thick. “What did he do?”

 

“I wasn't there, I never saw it, but from what I gather between father and the guards that accompanied him, Negan hacked the man to pieces like a deranged wolf. Apparently, what was left when he was done was hardly recognizable as human.”

 

“No...he wouldn't, Negan wouldn't...” That didn't sound like Negan at all. Yes, he could be a loud, foul-mouthed brute at times, but he was still a knight, he still held himself to the utmost standards of gentlemanly conduct. “Did he say why he did it?”

 

“I am told he was in shock, as though he were outside himself when he was discovered.” She stood and fetched a glass of water, lifting it to Carl's lips for him to drink. “I think he thought you had died. That is the only reason I can suspect that would lead Negan to behave thusly.”

 

To the side, the door reopened and a very tired looking King entered with a relieved smile, his Queen right behind him. “My son! Thank the gods...” Richard walked with long strides into the room and sat at Carl's side, embracing him tightly. “I thought I had lost you. You've been asleep for days.”

 

“Days?” Carl returned the hug loosely, still not feeling in total control of his body. That meant Negan had been down in the dungeon for days. His poor knight!

 

“Yes, you've been asleep for nearing a week now.” The King's eyes were glassy as he smiled and kissed the prince's forehead. “But you are awake now and that is all that matters!”

 

“We're overjoyed that you've made such a quick recovery.” Lori offered with a sedate smile, sitting on his other side and stroking his hair.

 

“Father, I don't mean to overstep, but where is my knight? What is to become of Negan? I wish to see him right away.”

 

“Carl,” Richard's lips set into a firm line and he looked away, trying to find the right words. “ I don't think that's a good idea right now, son. He...he isn't right right now...I think he needs the space to come to his senses.”

 

“No! He needs to see me! He needs to know that I survived!” Carl grabbed at his father's sleeve, beseeching him to let him see Negan. “Please, father.”

 

“I said no and my mind is made up on this, Carl—“

 

“Well, your decision is wrong.”

 

Judith gasped quietly beside them. Carl rarely raised his voice to his father let alone to tell him, the King that he was wrong.

 

“Carl! That is your father you are speaking to! Do not speak to him like that!” Lori's eyes were wide, whether it was in surprise of his attitude or if she were scandalized that her well mannered son would act in such a way, he wasn't sure.

 

“I'm sorry father, but in this, you are wrong. Negan thought I was dead! He probably thought he had nothing to lose—you can't punish him for what he has done in grief!” Carl hadn't even realized he had tears in his eyes— _eye—_ until he felt one land on his shirt, leaving the fabric darkened.

 

“And I am sorry, but I have made my decision and my word is final.” Richard raised his voice, which also rarely happened, especially directed at his children, and Carl knew the conversation was over. “Just...get some rest tonight and maybe we can discuss this further in the morning. Negan, afterall, is yours to punish, not mine.”

 

All Carl offered was a curt nod as he set his jaw, fighting tooth and nail not to let another tear fall. He couldn't afford to be weak. His father and mother each placed a kiss on his forehead before they took their leave for the night.

 

“I can take you to him.” Judith offered as soon as the door shut. Their shared blue eyes twinkled sharply in the low fire light. “I know where he's being kept and I doubt he has had much if anything at all to eat.”

 

“Please...” Carl croaked, voice barely above a whisper. The thought of Negan suffering because of him made him sick and he clutched at his middle, feeling as though he might lose whatever remained in his stomach.

 

“Okay, we just have to wait until mother and father are asleep. Meanwhile...” She nodded towards a tray of food sat on the bedside table full of soft bread, cheese and apples. “You should try and eat something too. There's a lot of stairs to go down and climb back up and you're going to need your strength.” She quickly raised a hand to his protest of not being hungry. “You don't want Negan to worry any more than he already has, right? So eat something so he doesn't have to worry about you collapsing.”

 

}{}{

 

Carl had underestimated just how far down into the depths of the castle the cells were. The steps were made of rough hewn stones, cobbled together mishmash with grey mortar. They were slippery with river muck where the moat dripped down through the ceiling, leaving everything smelling of wet-rot and mildew. The quiet drip drip drip of the water leaking in was nearly maddening with its consistent inconsistent tempo. Carl wanted to find every crack and seal it up tight just to make it stop. Walking down into the dungeon was like wading through a sea of ink it was so dark. Their shadows looked monstrous, standing eight feet high, against the dirty walls cast by the light of their candles. Nearing the bottom of the steps, the light of a small lantern could be seen and the voices of those on guard duty echoed eerily through the catacomb like hallway.

 

“Ho! Who is it that comes down here at so late an hour?” One of the guards called out in a deep, booming voice as they approached the table where four guards sat playing cards and drinking ale.

 

“It is the prince and princess.” Carl announced, stepping into the small front room where the guards usually lounged.

 

“Your majesties! Forgive us for being so informal!” The guards all rose to their feet quickly and bowed low, sweeping bows.

 

“It is alright.” Carl waved the gesture off. “I wish to see Negan.”

 

“But, my lord, we've been told that no one but the King himself may see the prisoner.” A young guard stuttered out nervously.

 

“Do not refer to him as 'the prisoner'! Just days ago the lot of you respected and followed him! He is still a knight!” Carl held up a hand to their numerous apologies. “I only wish to see him. I want to hear with my own ears what happened.”

 

“Yes, my lord. Come this way.” The young blonde guard offered him escort with a jittery wave of his hand..

 

“Thank you.” Carl turned to take the basket of food and water Judith had so kindly carried down for him. He wasn't sure why, but he was hit with a wave of nerves and he stood there for a moment, picking at the basket handle and shuffling his weight from foot to foot. “Wait for me, dear sister?”

 

“Of course.” She smiled reassuringly and patted his shoulder before turning to the guards with a haughty look. “Lets see if you boys really know how to play cards, hm?”

 

Carl smiled, chewing at his lip as he turned and followed after the guard. The further they went into the dungeon, the harder it became to see and the air was so thin here, it threatened to snuff out the torch the guard took down from the wall. Finally, they stopped before the very last cell and instantly Carl felt his heart shatter.

 

Negan was sat on the floor amongst the filth and the hay lining the cell, arms drawn behind his back and held in place with an iron bar that attached to the wall with two heavy, blackened chains. There was enough slack in the chains for him to sit and lie down, but the ceilings here were intentionally low so even if he could stand, he would have to remain hunched over.

 

And his face...

 

His usually vibrantly tanned skin was sallow and gaunt, sallow bruises stained the underneath of his eyes. The knight's usually well kempt beard and hair were both in disarray and as he stepped closer, Carl could see he still had blood on his hands, his chest, his face. They hadn't even bothered to bathe him before they cast him into this maliciously caliginous box.

 

“Open the door.”

 

“But I—“

 

“I said open. This. Door. Right this second or so help me you will be the next one in here!” Carl shook with anger, fists clenched at his side. He rarely exercised his power so forcefully, but in the moment, he couldn't find it in him to care, this guard was just one more obstacle in the way of getting what he truly wanted.

 

“Yes, your grace.” The wrought iron door creaked open startling Negan from his thoughts.

 

“Negan...” Carl pushed past the guard and stepped cautiously into the cell, trembling so hard his legs threatened to give out entirely. “Leave us.” He dismissed the guard that seemed to remain lingering about ineffectually, probably more nosy than anything.

 

Negan's head shot up, eyes wide in shock that turned to disbelief. “Carl? Carl...is that you?”

 

“Yes, it's me.” As soon as the guard was out of ear shot, Carl fell to his knees before Negan, taking his face in his hands and kissing him soundly. The kiss tasted like copper and salt and Carl realized belatedly that Negan was crying into the kiss, expression pained. “I'm here, my dereworthy heart. What have they done to you?”

 

“Carl. Carl...” Negan bowed his head, pressing his face into the crook of the prince's neck, as close to an embrace as he could get. “I thought....gods, I thought I lost you...”

 

“No, I'm right here. Right beside you where I belong.” Carl wrapped his arms tight about Negan's neck, cradling his head. “I won't stand for this. My father has to release you...I'll make him understand, I'll—“

 

“It's alright, Carl.” Negan's usually bright voice was croaky and sounded as broken as he looked. “I failed you...I couldn't keep you safe...I deserve this.”

 

“No you don't. Look at me.” Carl pulled back just enough to catch Negan's eyes. “There was no way you could've known what was going to happen and I don't blame you for any of this, do you understand me?” From the basket he took a cloth and a jar of once warm water, now gone tepid, and wet one of the cloths he'd brought down and started washing Negan's face. “None of this is your fault.”

 

“Stop, please,” Negan tried to fight Carl's touch, turning his face away from it. “I don't deserve your kindness. Not now.”

 

Carl huffed and sat back on his heels, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you quite through?” Negan looked slightly taken aback at Carl's tone. “If you are done wallowing in your guilt and self loathing, I would like to clean my beloved and feed him something other than the gruel I'm sure they've been serving you. So, are you?”

 

“I'm—I'm sorry, my lord. Forgive me.” The barest hint of a sad smile began to form on Negan's lips and he held still for Carl to wipe his face clean. But he couldn't help the tears from falling silently as he watched Carl kneel before him and tenderly wash his feet. It all felt wrong and backwards if only for customs sake, but Carl needed to do this, he needed to care for Negan as he so often cared for him.

 

Unlacing Negan's tunic and washing his strong chest was nice and he smiled to himself as he washed over plains of corded muscle. The next part, however, had him blushing like a maiden, even if he had seen Negan naked countless times, unlacing his breeches and fishing out his soft cock proved another thing entirely. It was intimate in an entirely different way. He was surprised to find how impressive Negan remained even though he was soft.

 

“Oh dear, is the princess getting flustered?” Negan teased as Carl washed him as delicately as possible. Carl felt joy kindling in his heart at the normalcy of the moment. “I think a rose might envy your cheeks.”

 

Carl pouted up at him, blush darkening until it was undeniable, even in the low light emitted by the candle. With a cheeky smirk, Carl started stroking the older man, not tight enough to satisfy but just enough to tease, getting him half hard in no time at all.

 

“Oh look, it's getting hard...” Carl tried very hard to keep his expression and tone as disinterested as possible. “...wouldn't it be so dreadful if I were to just walk away?”

 

“You wouldn't!” Negan looked utterly affronted at the thought.

 

“Wouldn't I, though?”

 

Their eyes met, at last, really met, Negan allowing himself to look Carl straight on instead of just over his head or just below his chin. For a moment, Carl had been scared to know what he would find there, if Negan's guilt would outweigh and bury the love he usually saw shining warmly in his oak moss eyes. But there, just beneath the reflective surface of glassy eyes was the pure adoration only Carl knew.

 

After getting him somewhat cleaned up, Carl brought out the bread and chicken and cheeses he'd tucked away and broke them into small pieces and fed Negan from his hand. Negan sat and ate each bite obediently, not putting up much fuss. It filled Carl with conflicting emotions feeding Negan from his own hand. Part of him was happy, enjoying simply caring for the older man, but then, and this he felt slight guilt over, it was somehow erotic to feed him like this. The way his lips parted and his teeth sunk into the meat as he drew it into his mouth, sometimes catching Carl's fingers with his teeth or tongue, made Carl's heart flutter.

 

All too soon the food was finished and Carl had to take his leave or else his nursemaid would send someone looking for him. Carl touched the knight's cheek once more, bringing their foreheads together. “I love you, Negan.”

 

“I love you too, songbird.” Negan closed his eyes and sighed, lifting his chin to kiss Carl one last time.

 

“I'm sorry that I can't do more, that you have to stay here another night. But my father...he's being unreasonable.” The young prince looked down at his lap, at the bar trapping Negan's hands behind his back, at the chains attached to it hating everything about it.

 

“It's alright. I know you'll figure something out and if not...” Negan shrugged and looked around the small cell. “Well, we'll have the nights here to share with one another.”

 

“Don't say such things. There is no other option than to get you out of this terrible place or...or I'll join you in it!”

 

“Hush now, Carl, _you_ don't speak such things. I'd never allow you to remain here.” Negan huffed and shook his head, looking up through his brows. “Roses don't bloom in the dark just as a caged lark doesn't sing.”

 

“I'm not a flower or a bird, Negan, and I won't have you treating me thusly.” Carl straightened himself up, trying to look as tall and composed as possible.“I'm not so easily broken.”

 

There was a pause where Negan looked him over, gaze lingering on the bandaging wrapped neatly about the prince's head, and smiled, something proud and sharp. “I suppose you're right.”

 

}{}{

 

As soon as first morning's light brightened the sky, Carl was up and out of bed, hurriedly dressing himself and walking quickly to the dining room. He bowed his head politely to the few servants he passed along the way, not stopping for a chat like he usually might. He was in a hurry to see his father. He couldn't stand the thought of Negan spending one more moment alone in that foul-aired, dismal darkness.

 

The dining room was more of a hall really, high ceilings with immense, dark grey stone walls hung with tapestries depicting everything from family crests to scenes of the gods various tales. A large hearth crackle-popped with damp wood, steam and smoke rising up from it, a garland of vines and leaves decorating the mantle. In the center of the room was the table, nearly as long as the room itself, made of a rich, deep chestnut, worn polished in places from the years and generations of arms and hands rubbing and resting against it.

 

As he suspected, Richard was sat at the head of the long table taking his morning meal while he spoke amicably with his favorite woodsmen, Daryl. The latter of the two was the first to look up, catching the young prince with sharp navy eyes that saw near everything and missed very little. Daryl had always been one of Carl's favorite people as well, quiet and reserved beyond measure but so smart and quick on his feet, especially when it came to hunting, Carl couldn't help but admire his almost inhuman placidity.

 

With a few gruff sounding words to the King, Daryl stood and bowed to Carl, touching his shoulder as he came closer. “Glad to see you up on your feet, milord.”

 

“Thank you, Daryl.” Carl offered him a small smile and bowed his head in return.

 

Daryl nodded and took his leave, leaving the two royals alone in the large room. As soon as they were alone, Carl sat at his father's side, ignoring the plate of breakfast that was brought out for him. He sipped at the hot tea only because his throat felt dry from the idea alone of the impending argument that was about to ensue.

 

“Before we start chatting about your knight and his supposed dishonoring and such, I have something I would like to give you.” Richard spoke without so much as looking up from his plate, scooping up a bit of runny egg delicately and placing it in his mouth. He wiped his mouth neatly and presented Carl with a small wooden box.

 

“Thank you.” Carl accepted the gift with a minute bow of the head and opened it. Inside, laying on a bit of white linen much like his bandaging, was a small pin in the shape of a gladiolus sat atop nightshade blooms. It was about the size of a silver coin and appeared to be made of pewter or steel. “It's lovely. What is it for?”

 

“I had Abraham cease all other orders to cast and make that up for me really quick so it would be ready when you awoke.” Richard placed a hand on Carl's, holding it firmly as he looked into his son's eyes. “There was talk after the first few days that you wouldn't make it, but I knew. I knew you would. I knew you'd conquer death and that's what the pin means. Gladiolus for 'Victory' over nightshade blooms 'darkness and death.' It's cast from the arrow that pierced you.”

 

“Father I—“ Carl paused, swallowed, tested the weight of the pin in his hand. He couldn't believe how heavy it was in actuality, couldn't believe that not that long ago, this piece of metal was buried in his flesh. And he survived it, the supposedly insurmountable had been surmounted. This pin was the visual representation of his victory over death, this was a small piece of armor he had _earned_. “It-It's beautiful. Thank you.”

 

“I'm glad you like it.” Richard gave his hand a final pat before tucking in again. “As for Negan, I'm not entirely sure I want to set him free. You weren't there, Carl, you have no idea what I saw...whoever—whatever—did that was not human. The man was in shreds! Tatters!”

 

“I know he didn't mean to do it, father. Have you ever witnessed him commit any other such atrocity before?”

 

“No, I will admit that I have not, but—“ He raised a hand when Carl went to speak out of turn. “I also cannot have him acting the rabid dog every time I unleash him. I cannot keep one eye on him and one eye on the battle, the kingdom, my family. There are rules! A trial was supposed to happen...this is not how Alexandria is ran!”

 

“Father! You're speaking nonsense and you know it! You have always trusted Negan around Judith and me!” Carl scooted closer to the King, grasping the sleeve of his robe. “You yourself gifted him to me, father. You trusted him.” His eye flickered back and forth between Richard's. “And I know some part of you still does.

 

“Just think, if the circumstances were different, if you had reached the assassin before Negan, what would you have done? If you thought I had died, if you thought you had held my lifeless corpse in your arms as the light left my eyes?”

 

“But I knew you weren't dead. I heard you speak before I left to pursue the man—“

 

“And Negan didn't! He thought I had died! And he ran after my attacker and tracked him down before you or any of the guard did and stopped him before he got away!” Carl couldn't help his voice getting louder as he spoke with such avid conviction about the man he loved. “Tell me father—what would you have done?”

 

Richard paused for a long moment, swiping the crust of his bread through golden-yellow yolk, sopping it up and popping it all in his mouth. He kept his gaze lowered and Carl knew he was right and that he'd managed to back his father into the proverbial corner. “...I probably would have killed him too.”

 

“I know you would've.” Carl lowered his tone into something more comforting. “Because you love me and you would've been in agony.”

 

“Are you saying you think Negan loves you?” Richard's gaze and tone shifted from something austere to something softer.

 

“N-no,” Carl blushed vibrantly. “But he is just as devoted to me as if he were in love with me.” He gripped his father's sleeve tighter. “Please, father, please let him go. This will never happen again, I swear on my honor.”

 

There's another heavy, pregnant pause between them before Richard sighed and waved his hand. “Alright, I shall release him, but Carl, one more slip up like this and I'll have no other choice but to have him executed.”

 

“Thank you, father!” Carl jumped up and hugged the King fiercely, grinning from ear to ear. “And I promise, it never will.”

 

}{}{

 

It wasn't until late that night that Carl finally got the knock on his door he had been waiting for. Slowly, he made his way over and took a deep breath to stave off any potential disappointment and opened the door.

 

“My dove...”

 

There stood Negan, looking a little worse for wear, smiling tiredly. His armor had been returned to him, glowing faintly in the light spilling from the fireplace. His face looked even more drawn and gaunt in the contrasting vermilion and umber of the licking flames. They booth stood there, looking each other over for the longest, both afraid to move as if they would be wakened from a dream the moment they did.

 

“Negan...” Carl moved first, taking a step forward and wrapping his arms around Negan's waist, the metal cool even through his layers. The tears started flowing despite his best to keep them in, he just couldn't, he was so overjoyed to have Negan with him once again and so guilty for being responsible for his confinement.“I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...”

 

“Now now, we settled this, no more apologies, little lord.” Negan walked them into the room, pushing the door shut behind him. “We both know it wasn't your fault.”

 

“But—“

 

“Shh, no buts, just let me hold you, my sweet boy, like I've wanted to since first learning you had awakened.” Negan stripped himself of his gauntlets and vambraces followed by the couters, rerebraces and pauldrons and opened his arms wide for Carl.

 

Carl didn't need to be asked twice and stepped into the circle Negan's arms, sobbing and standing on tip toe to places kisses all over his face. He kissed his lips, both cheeks, the tip of his nose, his beard, everywhere he could get to, while Negan's large hands roamed his petite frame, petting his back and hair, before slipping under his tunic, finally creating skin on skin contact. Carl practically melted into the touch, whining against Negan's lips when he captured them in a bruising kiss.

 

“This is all I've dreamt of for days on end, embracing you, kissing you.” Negan's voice was rough and low and so close to that broken timbre Carl had heard in him down in the cells. He pulled away and bit back tears before he spoke again. “I love you.”

 

“I love you,” Carl smiled up at his knight and wiped his eye. “Come, take me to bed, show me your love.” He tugged on the older man's hand, trying to lead him to the bed, confused when he didn't immediately follow.

 

“I can't.” Negan's brows scrunched together and his mouth was set in a firm line. “I have to return to my own quarters soon. It was part of your father's conditions for my release—a curfew instated to have me in my quarters from dusk until dawn.”

 

“What? For how long?” Carl clung to Negan, not wanting him to be anywhere that wasn't by his side.

 

“For as long as your father deems fit, I suppose.”

 

“Wait...part of?” Carl drew back just enough to see Negan's face. “What else is there?”

 

“I'm barred from participating in any jousts for the time being, I'm not permitted to leave the castle grounds unless it is at your behest or for your protection...” Negan gazed down and away, taking up Carl's hand and rubbing his thumb back and forth over the knuckles.

 

“And?” Carl swallowed thick, already feeling dread rising up in his chest.

 

Its another long moment before Negan speaks again, mouth opening and closing a few times, trying to find the right words or maybe just delay them. “And...I'm to be branded.”

 

“No...” Horror runs through him and nearly makes him sick. “No! I won't allow it! I refuse to let you be branded like some common criminal! No! I won't—“

 

“Carl,” Negan stops him, voice deceptively soft. “It doesn't matter, I agreed to it.”

 

“No...Negan...”

 

“Your father wanted me branded tonight, wanted to do it himself, but I swallowed down my pride and begged for mercy for the first time since my imprisonment.”

 

“W-what did you beg for?”

 

Negan's oakmoss eyes looked deep into his own and he pressed another kiss to Carl's hand. “I asked that you be allowed to brand me.”

 

Carl's knees nearly gave out. Him? He was to be the one to brand his protector, his savior, his beloved? He felt weak and dizzy and he knew if it weren't for Negan holding him upright, he might have collapsed. “I can't,” he sobbed, shaking his head “I can't...”

 

“Please, Carl,” Negan besought, “Do me this kindness. I know it so much to ask of you and I'm so sorry to put this on you, but I would rather it be done by your hand so that every time I see it, I will think of you, of my vows to you.”

 

“You don't need a brand to remember that!” Carl wept once more, hiding his face in Negan's chest.

 

“Carl, it can't be stopped, it has already been set into motion and I cannot escape my fate.” With forefinger and thumb, Negan lifted Carl's chin upwards so he could look into his eye. “Please, do this for me and I will never ask another thing of you ever again.”

 

Carl felt his world tilt and tremble, his stomach lurching at the sensation. He took a deep shaky breath before nodding his acquiescence. “Alright...I'll do this. For you.”

 

“Thank you.” Negan closed his eyes, brows furrowed, as he placed kiss full of gratitude to the back of Carl's hand.

 

“When?”

 

“Tomorrow. On the morn.” The knight stepped back to replace his armor, sliding all the pieces into place. “King Richard has allowed me to keep some of my honor and has promised to keep the punishment as private as possible.” Negan moved to the door, hand resting on the handle. “I will be waiting for you at the smithee's.”

 

“Negan wait!” Carl managed to put one foot in front of the other and make his way over to Negan, pulling him down for a fierce embrace and one last desperate kiss. He touched their foreheads together, trying to prolong the inevitable when a sharp rap at the door made them startle apart.

 

“Until tomorrow, my prince.”

 

}{}{

 

The next morning brought with it a dense fog that blanketed the castle and hills around it like a vast sea of clouds. The air was rich with the scent of petrichor and the decay of fallen leaves as the breeze blew in through the open window of Carl's bedchamber. Even the birds were silent as though they knew what was about to happen.

 

Carl laid in his bed, looking up at the velvet canopy blankly. He hadn't slept much, if at all, his mind too busy chasing his tangled thoughts all through the night. He supposed he should be grateful that Negan is getting away with only a branding and nothing more, but he can't help but feel something deep within him balk at the idea of marking Negan, of causing the man anymore pain than he already had endured.

 

His servants came in and silently went about their duties, faces somber. Carl was again presented with finery he did not want to wear and only allowed the barest of clothing to be placed on him, a mourning dove grey, wolf fur trimmed coat, charcoal breeches and tunic, and an off white blouse. His breakfast went untouched and no one argued or tried to make him eat. Just as he walked out the door, he clasped the pin his father had given him to his breast.

 

Outside, all was silent save for the sound of Carl's own feet on the sandstone and the quiet clink of armor as the guards changed their posts along the battlements. The doors that lead out towards the ramparts and barracks were opened for him by two straight-faced guards who wouldn't meet his eye as he walked passed.

 

A small gathering had accumulated outside the blacksmith's—guards, his mother and father and Judith—all standing around in a small semi circle, faces turned towards the subject of today's punishment. As Carl neared the group, he saw Negan knelt before them, arms strapped down to a heavy wooden block with leather straps across his forearms and metal shackles around his wrists, and his heart ached for what he was about to do. Everyone turned to look at him as he approached and stepped into the circle without a word.

 

“Punishment and dishonor...that is the reason the few of us stand here today.” Richard started, staying back and not stepping into the center to speak as he usually might. “It is with a heavy heart that we all shall witness your punishment. Sir Negan, you have been found guilty of dishonoring your knighthood, savagery and disobedience to your King.” As he spoke, Abraham carried out a large pot of red hot, live coals and sat them beside the block where Negan was restrained. “As agreed upon, you shall be branded on the knuckles so as to show the world your short comings.

 

“Carl.” The King nodded at his son and then at the pot of live coals which Carl just then realized held not one but four brands, all glowing orange and yellow with searing heat. With shaky steps, Carl made his way forward and grasped the first brand in the line, a curling “W” that he might have found pretty under any other circumstances. His heart was hammering so loudly in his chest, he wondered how no one else around him could hear it. With tears in his eye, Carl turned and looked upon his lover who looked right back at him, calm and unflinching.

 

“The 'W' is for your wrath, a sin against the gods which lead to your animal like savagery.” Richard announced, the barest hint of disdain in his voice and features and nodded at Carl once again to apply the brand.

 

Carl took another step forward and faltered, breath catching in his chest. He looked to his father, to the crowd, beseeching with someone to put an end to this, to protest marking such a brilliant knight, but none stepped forward. The young soldiers stood in the back, heads hung low in cowardice and shame, Judith looked everywhere but at what was unfolding before her, features pinched in pity and lament, only his mother and father looked straight at him, both encouraging him to do as instructed, even if it felt wrong with every fiber of his being.

 

“Carl...it's okay.” Negan whispered, drawing Carl's gaze back to him. “Press hard, count to three and pull it away.” He locked eyes with Carl and clenched his fist, showing him he was ready, speaking louder this time. “Mark me, my lord, take this small part of me as payment so that it may be yours.”

 

He couldn't contain it anymore. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he sobbed and forced the poker forward. The smell of burning flesh instantly filled his nose and he felt as though he might faint at any moment. Negan grit his teeth and bared through it, panting as the brand was pulled away. Carl dropped it unceremoniously to the ground and turned to grab the next.

 

“The 'D' is for dishonor which you have shown by acting thusly and allowing your base nature to shine over your promise to always conduct yourself as a gentleman.”

 

Carl pressed the brand to the front of Negan's second finger before his father even finished speaking, just wanting all this to be over. Negan groaned and a light sheen of sweat broke out across his brow. He felt sick as he took up the third.

 

“The 'P' is for your pride, for thinking you knew better than me, your King, and taking action in direct opposition to my instructions.”

 

Another sizzle, another mark etched permanently into Negan's toughened flesh.

 

“And finally, the 'G' is for a reminder of to whom you belong to, to whom you answer and serve—the Grimes. Our word is final and shan't ever be disobeyed again on penalty of death.”

 

The final letter was seared into the knuckle of Negan's pinky and his head fell forward onto the block, pressing his forehead into the wood while he regained his composure. Finally he lifted it to look at Carl who was still holding the poker in a trembling hand, a small smile playing at his lips. “Thank you.”

 

Quickly, two guards stepped forward and unshackled Negan with an unexpected gentility; even if his father didn't care for Negan, his men certainly still did. They helped him onto his feet and gave him a brief, meaningful look and a nod.

 

Carl threw the brand to the ground and was fast at Negan's side, angrily pushing past everyone to get Negan to the infirmary and to get away, get away from their eyes, get away from their hushed murmurs, to get Negan away from all of it.

 

Once they were out of sight, the tears wouldn't stop pouring no matter what he did, so he let them. He walked as straight-backed and proper as any Prince, steps confident and never faltering but inside it felt like he was going to break. He couldn't take it. It felt as though both Negan and his father had asked too much of him, he wasn't ready for something like this.

 

But he had to be, he thought belatedly. This is what King's do. They dole out sentences and punish without prejudice or let their emotions get in the way. If this had been his father's way of testing him, surely he failed. He wasn't ready, not for this and not to be King.

 

“Carl? Carl talk to me.”

 

Through his daze, Carl realized Negan was speaking to him, probably had been since they got passed the gathering of witnesses, but he hadn't heard a word of it. He stopped dead in his tracks, blinking rapidly to bring himself back into the moment, and turned to face Negan.

 

“Carl...I'm sorry.” Negan cupped his cheek with his uninjured hand, hazel eyes so full of sadness it made Carl's heart ache.

 

“Stop it...don't do that.” Carl's voice broke and he hiccuped on a barely contained cry.

 

“Don't do what?” Negan's brows knit, head tilted slightly to the side.

 

“This! Don't...don't pretend like it's all okay! Don't pretend like I deserve any pity right now!” Carl felt himself growing louder and more hysterical by the second, it was like a dam bursting and flooding the lands around it. He cried openly, tears turning Negan into a blurry smudge, and brought Negan's burnt hand to his lips and whispered “Don't pretend like I didn't just hurt you and like I'm the one who needs comforting.”

 

“Oh my sweet prince.” Negan sighed, something of a smile in his voice that wrapped around Carl soft and warm as velvet. “I'm alright. Truly. I've suffered far worse in battle.”

 

“But you didn't deserve it! A-and it-it was me who did it!” He allowed himself to let out an ugly cry as two large, calloused hands came to rest on his cheeks, wiping away his tears as Negan shushed him.

 

“Carl. I promise you, I would have rather it been you over anyone else on this godforsaken earth.” Negan caught his gaze and smiled tight. “This is your mark, you made this and this makes me yours.”

 

“I'm still sorry...” He pulled his knight's hand into view again, examining the clear lettering burnt into his skin. At least the burns were clean and even, a mean shade of red, but would probably heal fine. “...you aren't a criminal. Anyone who knows you knows that.”

 

“I don't care what anyone should think save for you.” Negan glanced around to make sure no one else was present and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Carl's forehead. “And do you still like me, little Prince? Do you still love me?”

 

“Always!” Carl declared, more loudly than he intended and blushed. “Always and forever.”

 

“And I you.”

 

}{}{

 

After dinner that night, after darkness fell and Negan was sequestered away to his quarters, Carl locked himself in his tall tower, fire blazing brightly in his hearth as he gazed up at the stars, wondering if Negan was looking at the same ones he was right now. Or if he was sleeping. If he'd eaten that night. Carl's appetite had not yet fully returned and he had barely picked at his food, but neither of his parents seemed to notice or if they did, they didn't mention it.

 

Thoughts of earlier that day kept flashing through his mind unbidden like light flickering through stained glass. If he dwelled long enough, he could smell burnt flesh and hear the sizzle of the hot iron pressed into Negan's fingers.

 

The healer had bandaged the older man quick and efficient and had said that the burns should heal well as long as Negan keeps them clean. Carl would personally see to the care of them. They were his responsibility as was his knight.

 

A quiet knock at the door drew him from his thoughts. “Go away!” He groaned out. “I'm not permitting anyone entry so leave me be!”

 

“Not even your favorite sister?”

 

Carl softened instantly at the sound of Judith's voice, shoulders slumping as he let out a wet, shaky breath. “Come in.”

 

Judith pushed the door open and joined Carl on his balcony, holding his hand as she'd always done to comfort him or herself. “How are you feeling?”

 

Carl scoffed. “I did what was asked of me, nothing more. In this, my feelings don't matter.”

 

“Carl,” Her blue eyes shimmer with pity as she looks on at him. “You were crying out there and then...then you just left. You didn't bother speaking to mother or father. It...it isn't like you.”

 

“He thanked me...” Carl murmured, hiding behind his hair. “...I hurt him...I hurt him like that and he thanked me for it, Judy...and I...I can't forgive myself. I know that it was necessary that it had to happen, but for it to be Negan, I feel shattered.”

 

“Mm,” Judith nodded along, listening politely until he was through speaking. “I understand, dear brother. I think the both of you are in need of comforting right now and it's cruel of father to keep you apart.”

 

“We've barely been apart since he came here! And now I'm not permitted to see him as I please!” Carl grinds his teeth in frustration. “He is mine. My knight, my guard, my champion and no one else'.”

 

“Lo but you are a fool for him, aren't you?” Judith giggled, turning and resting back against the stone wall. “Do you remember father's face the day Negan swore himself to you?”

 

“Oh gods, I thought the whole court might riot!” Carl laughed quietly as he recalled the ceremony where he first met Negan and he swore his oath.

 

He had been enamored of the older man, standing so tall and proud in his gleaming armor, with kind yet intelligent eyes, a soft weathering to his features and grey in his whiskers indicative of his age, the moment he laid eyes on him. He looked strong and safe and Carl found himself inexplicably lost, terribly adrift, when the man took the knee before him and rather than bow his head, he looked right into Carl's eyes and Carl looked into his and Negan swore, with an intensity that made Carl shiver, that he would protect his young lord with his life. At the last moment, Negan had taken his hand and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of it without permission and the crowd had fallen silent on bated breath to see if the knight would be reprimanded for his impertinence. But all Carl could manage to do was blush and offer the knight a nod of a bow and a squeaked out thank you that made the corners of Negan's mouth curl into the first of many mischievous grins.

 

“When he took your hand, I'm fairly certain mother did!” She laughed, shaking her head. “I think, quite possibly, that is the most interesting thing to have ever happened while I've been at court.”

 

“What about you, dear sister? Has father spoken of granting you a knight yet?” Politely Carl poured them both a cup of the warm mulled wine that was hanging near the fire and brought them out onto the balcony.

 

Judith sighed and drank a large portion of the wine before she spoke. “That is part of why I came here. Father pulled me aside after dinner and spoke to me about just that.” She gazed out over the horizon, face a mixture of unreadable emotions. “It seems as though he already has one picked out for me. They currently reside with King Ezekiel to the south and I shall meet them when we travel there in a few days.”

 

“And? Are you happy?” Carl smiled and bumped their shoulders together. “Maybe you'll finally have someone to teach you proper swordsmanship.”

 

“Maybe...” She murmured, wistful, blonde curls and the white fox fur of her cloak swaying lightly in the cool breeze. “But what if they're like everyone else? What if they try to make me into a lady, into something I'm not? What if they want to treat me like some poor princess who can't defend herself? I think I'd lose my mind if one more person tried to push me into a role I do not desire for myself!”

 

“Calm down, I promise you, it won't be so bad.” He laughed. “One thing about a knight, no matter what, even if it isn't in your best interest, they have to listen to you. Unlike everyone who's watched over you, a knight is at your command, you will be in charge and they will go wherever you should point.”

 

“Truly?” Judith sounded a bit more hopeful.

 

“Truly.” Carl nodded, finishing off his cup. “Well, I should be retiring for the evening, the hour is late.”

 

“Are you really 'retiring' or are you planning on visiting your poor, unattended knight?” Judith singsonged and grinned mirthfully.

 

“How am I to see him? He's being guarded.”

 

“Oh, I wouldn't know, but the guards usually change posts every hour and if my guess is correct,” She squinted at the candle clock on the drawing table. “The next change should be in but a short spell. If you're fast, you can sneak past them and spend a night full of passion in your lover's arms!” She dramatically touched the back of her hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon.

 

“Stop it, you!” Carl flustered, batting at her and shooing her out the door as she giggled.

 

“Good night!” Judith stepped out into the hall and waved goodbye.

 

“Good night.” Just before the door closed he added “Thank you, sister.”

 

}{}{

 

Moments later, Carl found himself slipping quietly through the shadowy torchlight of the lower levels of the castle, sneaking towards Negan's quarters. Just as Judith said, the small pin fell from the candle clock and landed in its brass dish with an audible ting! and the guards set about switching their posts. It took him a moment, but Carl saw his chance and hurriedly scampered across the hall and into Negan's rooms before anyone could see him.

 

“Who's there?” Negan's gruff voice came from behind his small dressing screen. He stepped around it bare chested and wiping the water from his beard and face. His features immediately softened when he saw who had come to see him. “Carl? What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to see you...” Carl found himself stuck to the spot, not quiet able to stop staring at his knight's impressive physique, eyes tracing the line of hair that started at his navel and ended somewhere his dark breeches kept hidden. Negan took another step toward him, face a mix of concern and mild amusement, and Carl shook himself out of it and met him step for step until they were standing with barely a breath between them. “I-I missed you...” He reached out and gingerly touched Negan's chest, a thrill shiver running through him at the feeling of all those muscles just beneath his warm skin. “...I _needed_ you.”

 

Slowly, Negan's hands came up to wrap around Carl's waist, fingertips almost touching in the back, and pulled him closer. His hazel eyes glowed golden in the light coming from the modest fire place and Carl was already feeling dizzy with it. “You needed me?”

 

“Yes...I couldn't stand it another moment.” The Prince looped his arms about the knight's neck and pulled him that much closer, kissing only a small turn of the head away. “I just...I want to feel your arms around me, I want to feel safe again.”

 

“I'll always keep you safe.” The kiss Negan gave him was so unexpectedly gentle it took his breath away; it was so different from the usual rough desperation they usually touched each other with. “Would you like to share my bed with me tonight? Nothing more. Would that make you feel safe, my dove?”

 

“May I? Please?” He blushed as Negan unwrapped his arms from him and placed a sweet kiss to the center of each palm.

 

“Of course. Come.” Still holding Carl's hands, Negan walked backwards towards the bed. He pulled the Prince onto the mattress, lifting up the covers for him to settle into, and wrapped a heavy, comforting arm around his middle and scooted in until they were chest to back. “See? All safe.”

 

Carl's heart skipped a beat or two at the intimacy of the moment, at the care his knight always took with him. He let out a shaky, tired sigh, heart fluttering entirely too high in his chest. “Good night, dear knight.”

 

“Good night, my Prince.”

 

}{}{

 

“So, I am told that you weren't in your quarters early this morn.” Lori spoke without looking at her eldest, spreading clotted cream across a crumbling scone. “Now why would that be?”

 

Carl nearly choked on the bite of sausage and egg in his mouth. “I was there, just not in bed. I slept out on the balcony.”

 

“Your nursemaid checked there as well and it seems as though you weren't there either. Why are you lying to me?”

 

“Lori, cut the boy a break. He's allowed to have his secrets.” Richard waved her off as he finished his tea.

 

“Yes, I agree, dear husband, but I don't think secrets involving a certain recently dishonored knight should remain secrets.” Lori replied tartly, eyes flitting between Richard and Carl.

 

“Is that true? Were you with him all night?” The King sat his utensils down and fixed his son with a stern look. “I know you know that he is being kept under lock and key for a good reason.”

 

“I was.” Carl decided to give them something without giving away too much. “Negan had been telling me a story, before this.” He pointed pitiably at his eye. “And I wanted to hear the end of it and fell asleep.”

 

“I should've known this was going to happen. First you visit him in the cells after I told the guards implicitly not to allow visitors, now you're going and seeing him when he's being held in his quarters.” King Richard ran a hand exasperatedly down his face and over his beard. “ Tell me, Carl, what am I to do about this?”

 

“Let him go.” Carl shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly and continued eating.

 

“Do you even care about what I say? My word—“

 

“—is law. I know. You made that implicitly clear yesterday, thank you.” Carl set his cutlery down and folded his hands neatly in his lap. The words felt like dull lead in his mouth as he spoke.

 

“You are not King yet, Carl. Do not act as though you may go around me.” Richard sighed, seemingly caught off guard at his son's unusual obstinate attitude. He paused for a moment before speaking again. “I will lift Negan's curfew. My only rule is that you be where you're supposed to be, such as _in bed_ , when you're supposed to be there. There's no need to worry your mother.”

 

Carl almost wanted to laugh at the idea of his mother truly caring where he was at any given moment. “Of course, father. Thank you.” He made to leave to go and fetch his knight, but was stayed by his father's hand.

 

“Please sit, we have one other thing to discuss.” Richard went about cutting up the meats on his plate, the flatware dragging with a dull squeak across the pewter. “With winter approaching, it's time for our trip to Regnum.”

 

“I'd like to remain here this season, father.” Carl spoke earnestly. “I'd like a chance at being Steward, to run the grounds in your stead.”

 

“Out of the question. King Ezekiel is all worked up to see you after the terrible way the last tourney ended.” He nodded to a servant who stepped forward to pour him more tea. “You have to attend. As do you.” He added when Judith went to speak. “You have a knight to meet, young lady. But, it seems as though Ezekiel would prefer if Negan stayed behind.”

 

“What?! That's ridiculous!” Carl nearly slammed his hand down on the table but pulled himself back at the last moment. “Ezekiel loves Negan! I refuse to spend that much time away from him.”

 

“You don't have a choice in the matter.” Lori stated curtly. “Your father and Ezekiel have both said no and that is final.”

 

Whatever argument he had building up on his tongue shriveled when his father only nodded in agreement. “You are expected at court, Negan is not, and that is the end of it. Please go and start packing your things. We will be leaving the day after tomorrow.”

 

Carl stood and bowed bitterly, narrowly catching the smug look on his mother's face as he took his leave.

 

}{}{

 

The journey to the Southern Kingdom of Regnum took nearly a week, winding and trailing through dark, grey wood forests, dank, watery swamps and sprawling, golden sand deserts that stretched on and on without end. Carl sat leaning against the window of his and his sister's wheelhouse, watching the scenery and the animals that belonged to them change, not saying or eating much. No amount of farewell kisses and stolen moments could make up for the fact that he was about to spend three long months without the man he loved by his side. He felt empty, like only half a person. The wheelhouse trundled along, shaking and jostling as it went over the uneven paved path that lead to the gates of King Ezekiel's palace.

 

He'd never been away from Negan this long and the prospect of days on end without him made the winter seem that much longer and that much crueler. No promise of seeing Shiva or the water gardens could lift his spirits.

 

Judith sat much the same as him, lost in her own thoughts and inner turmoil. The prospect of having her own knight filling her with an odd anticipation and dread. “You have to eat, brother. Ezekiel is going to worry about you.”

 

“I will eat when you do.” Carl scoffed. She'd eaten like a bird the whole trip and they both were looking a little worse for wear.

 

“I just wish I knew what kind of person this knight is! I wish I had a choice in the matter!” She threw her hands up in the air. “What if they're terrible? What if they _smell_?”

 

“Judy, you're being silly. They will only be there so much as you want them and if they smell, give them a bath.” He laughed for the first time in days.

 

“That's easy for you to say, you love your knight.” Judith grumbled, resting her chin in her hand and gazing out at the sea of sand that seemed to threaten to swallow their carriage whole. “You're very own Lancelot.”

 

“I bet your knight will be much the same.” Carl brushed his sister's yellow curls behind her shoulder affectionately. “Let's make a wager of it, hm? Make things more interesting...”

 

“What did you have in mind?” The younger's ears veritably pricked at the idea.

 

“How about, if I am wrong and your knight is awful, I'll wear one of your dresses all day.” He grinned impishly, placing a finger to his chin in mock contemplation. “And if I'm right and you love your knight, you have to wear dresses for a week.”

 

“Oh, the deal is struck!” Judith grinned and shook her brother's proferred hand. “I hope you're ready to get pinched and squeezed within an inch of reason!”

 

“As I hope you are.”

 

The wheelhouses wound through the twisting streets of Regnum and the sounds of the market grew louder and louder the closer they came to the center where the palace stood. The rich scent of exotic spices and perfumes hung thick in the air like incense. Various people called out to one another in several different languages and dialects, some of which Carl recognized, others were entirely foreign. He always liked the diversity of Regnum, enjoyed learning about the different cultures that all came together to form her people. He couldn't help but think, sadly, that Negan would love it here.

 

Soon, the gates of the Sun Palace came into view. It was made entirely of glittering, white stone, everything trimmed and capped in sparkling gold, shining in the hot sun like a mirage. The gate was a tall, imposing piece of stunningly carved mahogany depicting two tigers rising on their hind legs and roaring fiercely. Banners of gold and green hung from the walls and posts, streaming in the wind, the light fabric fluttering like butterfly wings.

 

Standing at the gates awaiting their arrival, was the King himself, dressed in resplendent light green and blue robes, head crownless as always, dreads tied and twisted into intricate knots and braids, and his entourage, including Shiva who sat obediently at her master's feet. Lady Carol also stood at his side, her usual reserved, hint of a smile playing at her lips, dressed in the same pale green as the King. As they stepped out of their wheelhouses, the royal stood with his arms outstretched in greeting, hugging each of them in turn.

 

“Prince Carl!” The man pulled him in for a bear hug, large hands warm and comforting on Carl's back. “I am so glad to see you are well! I had feared we might not see you this season.”

 

“Thank you, your highness.” Carl returned the hug with a small smile. “I am hail and whole.”

 

He turned to Judith with another smile. “Ah and you, young Princess! I have a special gift for you.”

 

“You shouldn't have, your majesty.” She curtsied, looking more than a little green around the gills. “I'm honored.”

 

“Nonsense! I missed your last birthday and this seemed like the perfect gift to make up for it.” Ezekiel clapped his hands twice and a tall, slender woman with beautiful, dark skin glowing in the sunlight and long dreads similar to the King's stepped out from the small crowd. She wore light, Southern armor and had a thin, nimble sword strapped to her back. The woman smiled beatifically at Judith and placed a hand to her heart and bowed at the waist. “This, dear one, is Lady Michonne, one of the finest knights and indeed one of the most outstanding swordsman I have ever come across. I would like to gift her to you, if you find that agreeable.”

 

Michonne stepped closer and took the knee before Judith. “Princess, it would be my greatest honor to serve as your knight.”

 

Judith turned red from chest to hairline, struck absolutely dumb, mouth hanging open like a fish. Carl nearly doubled over with laughter; she was going to like her knight just fine. She finally snapped herself out of it and gathered her wits. “Y-yes...I mean, please...I would love—I mean...oh dear...”

 

Michonne laughed and it was charming and lilting like a bell as she rose to her feet. “I am happy you are pleased with me.”

 

“Come! Let us all go to my private gardens for food and drink! The kitchen has been working themselves night and day preparing for this and I wish very much to partake.” Ezekiel ushered them all inside and lead them straight to a linen covered gazebo in the gardens where colorful silk cushions surrounded a low table covered in beautiful aromatic flowers and candles. “Please sit, relax.”

 

Lunch went wonderfully, everyone chatting and drinking and enjoying themselves. Lady Michonne kept Judith smiling and blushing through the whole meal, chatting animatedly about her adventures and inquiring about the Princess's likes and own stories. The food was rich and delicious and there were so many dishes Carl had never had before, but he still found his appetite lacking. He couldn't stomach much more than a few mouthfuls with his thoughts lingering on Negan.

 

As night fell, Carl wandered into the gardens, following a path lit by decorative hanging lanterns with delicate patterns etched into them. The birds were quiet save for the rustle of their wings while the sound of crickets chirping overtook the evening breeze. Fragrant night blooming jasmine began to slowly unfold its petals and turn towards the bright face of the moon, their cloying scent perfuming the entire garden.

 

“And where is your knight? Sir Negan.” Ezekiel startled Carl, looking around comedically perplexed, Shiva close on his heels leisurely prowling the garden. “I'm so used to him being with you, I thought he was your shadow.”

 

The question struck him as odd and he cocked his head to the side. Hadn't his father said that Ezekiel did not want him here? “He, uhm, he was left behind this time, your highness, as per your request.”

 

“As per my request?” This time it was Ezekiel who cocked his head, continuing to look Carl over as though he were searching for something. He watched amused as Shiva sat and rested her large head in Carl's lap, purring drowsily and content as the boy scratched behind her ears.

 

“Yes, King Ezekiel, I beseech of you to please find it in your heart to forgive him! He isn't dangerous! What happened in the forest—“

 

“Whoa there, young Carl.” Ezekiel interrupted with a raised hand. “There is nothing to forgive. I cannot fault a man for defending that which he loves with both tooth and nail.” He nodded towards Shiva with a slight grin and Carl blushed. “I definitely don't fault her for doing it.”

 

“You knew? About Negan and myself?”

 

“I had a feeling about you. The way he looks at you and you look at him goes beyond sworn oaths and vows. It's something much deeper, more profound.” The shine in Ezekiel's eyes was friendly, almost day-dreamy. “I don't know about Alexandria, but here, such a relationship isn't a thing to hide. Really, only your stations might give some pause, but besides that, I find nothing wrong with your relationship. I'm very happy for you both to have found someone.”

 

“Thank you, your highness.” Carl couldn't wrap his head around the idea of him and Negan being able to open somewhere, that there was a place where they wouldn't be shunned. The idea of forgetting it all and running away was very tempting. He paused, brows furrowing together. “But my father said...”

 

I'm sure he had his reasons,” Ezekiel intoned and took a seat beside the young Prince.

 

“I don't think I can begin to understand them.” He stroked the tiger's silky coat, eye tracing over the stripes that swirled around her gleaming, peridot eyes. “He used to like Negan, trusted him as he trusts me. But now, it's almost as though he's afraid of him...he...he had me brand him!”

 

“Brand him? Whatever for?!” The King looked astonished, eyes wide in disbelief.

 

“For his wrath and disobedience and to remind him of who his master was.” Carl felt sick all over again, the phantom scent of burnt skin and hot iron filling his nose, the sound of Negan's groans, of his quiet 'thank you' ringing in his ears so loudly he almost couldn't hear himself when he spoke again. “Right across his knuckles...like some common criminal...”

 

“I'm so sorry, Carl. You shouldn't have been put in that position.” Ezekiel wrapped a comforting arm about the boy's shoulders and pulled him tight against his side. “I don't know what I would've done in your position had it been Carol that I was to harm.”

 

“Negan said he doesn't mind, that he's experienced worse in battle, which I'm sure is true, but...this is different.” Annoyingly, the tears returned and a single, large drop trailed down his cheek. “This time, it was _me_. _I_ hurt him. And I still feel so guilty for it...”

 

“It was a difficult burden to be placed upon your shoulders, but it's done and Negan is still alive. You have to be thankful for that much at least.”

 

“You're right and I am.” Carl chuckled softly when Shiva threw her big paw in his lap trying to get him to resume petting her. “Thank you for your council, Ezekiel.” He thought over his next words carefully, not wanting to offend his friend. “But...I don't want to remain here. Not this long, not without him. I love it here, but I wanted to show Negan everything, show him what I love so much about the Southern Kingdom.”

 

“Mm, I understand.” Ezekiel smiled again, a spark of mischief in his eye. “You know, Alexandria is only three days ride as the crow flies and I do have so many beautiful and swift steeds, I don't suppose I would notice right away if one went missing.” The King nudged at him when Carl sat there simply staring. “Now go, before anyone notices your absence. And stop by the kitchens for food and water for your journey.”

 

Carl jumped up, jostling the big cat who made a very disgruntled chuffing sound. “Thank you, your majesty.” In a rare display of affection, he flung his arms around Ezekiel's neck and hugged him fiercely. “I don't know how I will ever repay your kindness.”

 

“Your happiness is payment enough. I only ask that you consider returning once you two are...reacquainted. Go, be on your way, young Prince Carl, your knight is waiting for you.

 

}{}{

 

Negan sat perched on the battlements of Grimes castle, looking out across the land, rolling hills like waves on the ocean, the naked trees reaching their bony fingers skywards to the star laden heavens above. He pulled his cloak tighter about himself and took another sip of ale in hopes it might put a little warmth in his cold, achy bones.

 

Since his Prince's departure, Negan had taken to the dusk to dawn watch shift along the walls. At night it was quiet up there, the world fallen silent in sleep, and for a few brief moments, he felt like the only man on earth. It was just him, the stars and the darkness that coated everything like pitch.

 

Over the last week, he found himself in quite the sulk, not eating or sleeping like he once had, not with Carl so far away. What if he got hurt and Negan wasn't there to protect him? What if there was another assassination attempt while he sat here uselessly, safe and sound, in a cold, empty castle?

 

The Steward King Richard had chosen, a high ranking noble and his wife Glenn and Magdalene, were nice enough, seemed to like Negan well enough, but even the prospect of meeting someone new held little appeal and he mostly avoided them, keeping to himself. Glenn seemed to be of the quiet sort, very placid and calm with a level head, which made him perfect to rule in Richard's stead. Magdalene, in truth, was intimidating and Negan had feared for his hide when she first came here; one look and he knew she meant no nonsense.

 

On one night, their paths had crossed and she had unexpectedly taken his hand, examining the shiny, pinked burns on his fingers and had murmured, almost sounding disinterested, that calendula salve might help the scars to go away. When she had looked up at him, there was no judgment in her sharp, intelligent, green eyes and Negan had been taken aback by the strength he saw in her gaze. He had thanked her properly, even addressed her as Lady Magdalene, to which she just laughed, surprisingly loud and genuine, and told him no one calls her that, 'please, call me Maggie' and Negan knew he liked her.

 

As he looked out into the distance, he saw what appeared to be a bouncing ball of light headed straight for the castle gates, but as it moved closer, he realized it was the lantern of a single rider on horseback cutting through the forest. Quickly he made his way down the narrow, spiral staircase, opening the peephole just as the rider dismounted and strode confidently towards him.

 

“Who goes there at so late an hour?”

 

“No one except your Prince.” Carl pulled the hood of his cloak back. His cheeks were rosy from the wind, apple-round with his grin. “Now open up, old man.”

 

Negan flung the door open and stepped out to crush Carl in a tight embrace. He didn't care who was around to see it. He was so overjoyed, he lifted Carl off the ground and kissed him hard on those decadent red lips. “I've missed you.”

 

“I've missed you as well.” Carl placed little kisses all over Negan's face, his cheeks, his lips, his jaw. “I never want to be apart from you ever again.”

 

“And you won't be. I'm never leaving your side again, fuck the gods and the King, you are mine and if anyone should try to take you from me, I would tear the world apart to get you back.” He held the boy closer, burying his nose in his long hair, breathing in his comforting scent. “All mine, you hear me, boy?”

 

“All yours, Negan, always.” Carl wound his arms tighter about Negan's neck and whispered against his ear. “Take me to bed...right now...I need you.”

 

“Sweet boy,” Negan husked, rubbing his stubble against Carl's cheek and making him shiver. “Gladly.”

 

}{}{

 

They narrowly made it back to Negan's modest room without falling, limbs and lips both atangle, both refusing to let the other go for a second. Bits of armor trailed after them that Negan swore he'd collect later. Negan eagerly pushed Carl inside and slammed the door, pushing the young Prince up against it, pinning his wrists above his head and slipping a hard thigh between his legs, making Carl moan.

 

“Take me, Negan...claim me, make me yours. I need it.” He panted, straining to get Negan's lips back on his.

 

“Fuck,” Negan growled under his breath, his usual smirk edging his lips upwards as he teased Carl, barely touching their lips together and pulling back every time Carl tried to kiss him. “You know just how to get me going, don't you?”

 

“I've had a bit of practice,” Carl shrugged cheekily, tugging his hands free so he could pull Negan's tunic off. “Enough words, I want to feel you.”

 

With ease Negan lifted Carl up, his legs instantly winding their way around Negan's waist, and carried them to his low, ash wood bed. He possessed more grace than any man his size should and they jostled only slightly as he laid the Prince out across the downy blankets. Negan looked Carl over, brushing his bangs out of his face and kissing his cheek. “Where to start?”

 

“Start with not moving your lips less unless it's to kiss, lick or bite me.” Carl ordered and pulled Negan down into a hungry kiss with a hand to the back of his head.

 

“Bossy.” Negan chuckled around the kiss, licking into Carl's mouth.

 

“You adore it.” Carl gasped when Negan kneed his legs apart and settled down in between them.

 

Nimble fingers started in on the ties of Carl's shirt, pulling them loose with rough desperation. Their lips parted only long enough to pull the garment off over Carl's head. Negan ran his fingertips down Carl's chest, his lips following the same path, kissing and licking over pale skin and pretty pink nipples until the Prince was moaning for him, eagerly rising to meet his touch.

 

Negan rose and sat back on his haunches, grabbing Carl by the hips and dragging him closer until their pelvises met, grinding their hard lengths together with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips. He gazed ardently at Carl the whole time, mouth falling open on a reserved sound of pleasure.

 

“Negan, please...” Carl's legs began to tremble from keeping them spread so wide without much support, but he would be damned if he were about to let them fall. The angle Negan had him at felt incredible, but he needed more and he reached out to Negan, trying in vain to grab onto his shoulders, arms, anything to bring him back down on top of him. He wanted to feel the weight of his body baring down on him, pushing him down into the mattress, wanted to suffocate because they pressed so tightly together.

 

Wordlessly, Negan set about yanking Carl's breeches off, nearly rending them in two. With a tug and a shimmy, both their boots and breeches joined their blouses on the floor. He grabbed a diminutive, brown glass vial from his bedside table and tore the cork out with his teeth, pouring a copious amount of oil onto his fingers. He coated himself with firm, languid strokes, teasing precum from the tip, letting his head fall back for a second as he savored the sensation. He huffed a laugh at Carl's little sound of annoyance and slipped an oil-covered finger between Carl's cheeks, pressing it in slow and deep, watching it disappear bit by bit. One finger slid in like a dream, absolutely no resistance, the second came with some and he was too impatient himself to bother with a third.

 

“Are you ready, dereworthy heart?” Negan balanced himself over his young lover with a forearm to the bed just to the right of his head, hips already sinking down to align himself with Carl's slick entrance.

 

“Yes,” Carl breathed against Negan's lips, nodding as much as their proximity would allow, earning him another small smile. He lifted his own hips, moving them in tight circles, encouraging Negan to finally push into him. “I want you, my love.”

 

Negan steadily edged forward, careful when the head of his cock was met with some push back, pausing and moving as he could, but then hipbones met pert backside and he let out a groan that made Carl shiver. He made himself still and linger there for a moment, letting Carl and himself adjust, Carl to the stretch, himself to the all encompassing, velvet tightness.

 

With Carl's okay, he began to move, starting shallow then withdrawing further and further still until he was thrusting into the boy at a harsh yet love-filled pace. The head of his cock slipped out and Carl gasped and whined until Negan pushed back into him, rumbling as the tip kissed the hungry little pucker again.

 

“I don't think I'll ever tire of this...of how tight you are...” Negan drove his hips forward, Carl's high pitched keens urging him on. “...of the sounds you make...damn, I love you.”

 

“I-oh! I-I love you too...” It all felt so good, Carl could hardly think straight, outside of wondering how Negan was able to form a coherent thought. Carl thought he was going to break when Negan lifted one of his legs up and placed it on his shoulder, nearly bending him in half, but he was able to get so much deeper that way, Carl wasn't about to tell him to stop.

 

They held onto one another as though they might be torn apart at any moment, like this time might be their last. They kissed and kissed until both were breathless, lips swollen and slick with their ardency. Negan's fingers curled into his hair, wrapping it around them and tugging pleasantly at the roots. That with a well aimed thrust had Carl crying out and spilling between them, Negan following a heartbeat behind him.

 

“Are you alright?” Negan wiped a shimmering tear from the corner of Carl's eye, thinking how it looked like a sea spilling over with how blue the iris was. They laid still joined, arms and legs overlapping between them, drifting through the afterglow.

 

“More than alright.” Carl sighed, feeling content. “I don't know why I'm crying.”

 

“Must have been good to make an angel weep.” Negan chuckled and kissed another tear away.

 

“You're incorrigible.” Carl mock scowled up at his lover. “How is your hand?”

 

Negan brought it up to examine, linen bandages swathing his hand in white. “It feels just fine. Such a sweet boy to worry about me.”

 

“Don't tease, Negan.” He felt himself blush despite his protest.

 

“I'm not. You genuinely amaze me with how big your heart is. How's this?” Without thought, Negan reached up and lightly touched the bandaging covering Carl's missing eye, pausing when Carl jerked away from his touch.

 

“Please, don't uncover it. I can barely stand seeing it.” He placed a hand defensively over the wound, barring it from touch or sight.

 

“Carl, I love you, everything about you. This-” Negan gently removed Carl's hand. “--changes nothing. Let me see.”

 

This was it, this was the moment he'd been dreading since he first woke up in the infirmary and found himself to be disfigured. He felt like a monster, a hideous thing to be hidden, not Negan's 'dove', not his 'lovely boy', not the 'great beauty' he once claimed him to be and he had hopefully believed was true. Surely Negan would no longer want him after he saw it.

 

Carl swallowed hard and gave a short nod, closing his good eye, unable to see the look of pity or worse yet, disgust, he might see on Negan's face. The bandaging came loose slowly, layer after layer until the last bit came free and silence reined around them.

 

Carl felt as though he were quaking apart, shattering against the weight of the nothingness spanning between them. His voice stuck lodged in his throat, coming out wet and thin, but still he refused to open his eye. “Negan? Negan, what is it?”

 

“Beautiful.” The reverence in Negan's voice gave him pause and he felt another tear track down into his hairline. Callused fingers skirted along the edge of the scarring, touching but not quite touching the gore that was now his face. “May I touch it?”

 

Carl gasped, eye going wide at Negan's request. There was no trace of pity or jest in Negan's features, only a calm interest that made Carl's heart clench all the more. His lower lip trembled as he whispered out “yes.”

 

“Thank you.” Negan said quiet, sweet, like a prayer. Carefully, he brushed his fingers along the still healing border, pushing Carl's hair out of the way to see it in its entirety. “Does it still hurt?”

 

“It aches at times.” He said simply, sitting still as possible while Negan continued his gentle exploration.

 

Negan only hummed in response, still looking, still touching. After a while he paused and leaned in closer and Carl was fighting everything in him not to pull away, not to push himself further down into the mattress, but to just wait, to let what was unfolding play out. Closing that finite gap, Negan's lips came to rest on the edge of his socket, lingering for only a twinkling, leaving behind an amatory kiss.

 

“I love you.” The older man spoke in hushed tones, allowing the walls of this cottony-soft place they'd created to remain standing around them, cocooning them in a sunset-glow of warmth.

 

“I love you, too.” Carl kissed his beloved knight on the lips and, for the first time since he woke up, he felt whole again.

 

}{}{

 

“Again, I truly am sorry for showing up like this unannounced, but it was quite...urgent.” Carl chanced glancing over at the knight standing at attention behind him; Negan was smirking like he had a secret.

 

“We understand, really it's no trouble. We were just surprised is all.” Glenn offered another kind smile and continued eating his breakfast. “How long will you be staying, your grace?”

 

“Not long, I'm afraid. Sir Negan and I will be returning to the Southern Kingdom promptly.” Carl was quick to finish his meal and rose from the table. “Thank you again for watching over our home while we're away. Has there been any trouble?”

 

“None at all. Please stay safe on your journey.” Glenn and Magdalene both stood and gave a polite bow as Carl and Negan took their leave.

 

}{}{

 

They decided to take the journey back leisurely, enjoying each other and their time together without prying eyes and eavesdropping ears. At night, Negan made camp, built a fire, fetched wood, hunted for their food and when darkness fell, they slept under a blanket of stars. Carl rather preferred this to the various inns along the way; he generally did not like the attention he found at those places or how the owners bent over backwards for him; he hated making them stress and worry, so this really put everyone's mind at ease.

 

“You like this don't you, feeding me?” Negan opened his mouth for another bite of pheasant as Carl placed it to his lips.

 

“I might.” Carl could feel the tips of his ears turning crimson. He was rather pleased with himself, with his position, sitting across Negan's lap, straddling his hips, feeding the both of them. He liked taking care of Negan like this; it was a different and new kind of intimacy. Negan quirked his brow and hummed, lifting a hand when when he offered him another piece.

 

“Have you ever done this before, milord?” Negan reclined back against a fallen tree, hands folded behind his head, gaze turned skyward, tracking the constellations.

 

“Slept outside?” Carl scoffed. “Have you met my mother? She would have fits at the idea alone!” He moved off the older man's lap to feed more twigs into the fire, breaking them up into tiny pieces and throwing them in one by one. “Once, when I was small, Daryl offered to take me on an overnight hunt out in the forest and I begged and pleaded with my mother to let me go, but she said it was entirely out of the question 'young princes do not sleep in the dirt!'”

 

“Well heavens me,” Negan placed a hand to his chest, fluttering his lashes and pitching his voice to sound more feminine. “Don't want to get a speck of dirt on the little lords breeches! It would ruin them, surely!”Carl laughed and threw a bit of twig at him. Negan rolled onto all fours and crept over to Carl, slowly pushing him back until he hit the dirt, leaves crinkling under his head, nose filled with the scent of the dampened earth. “Oh dear, are you laying in the dirt? What would your mother say?”

 

Negan's grin was devilish and so so charming that Carl yanked him down for a kiss, startling him.“Shut up and kiss me already.”

 

They made their way over to their bedroll and curled up together, lips slick and reddened with kisses. Carl laid his head on Negan's chest listening to the steady drum of his powerful heart. The fire still crackled low beside them, providing them with extra warmth and light enough to see one another's face.

 

“Have you thought about what you want to tell your father yet?” Negan asked as he absentmindedly threaded his fingers through Carl's hair, admiring the impossible softness of it.

 

“Not yet. Not exactly, anyway.” Carl rested his chin on his folded hands, looking up at Negan thoughtfully through his lashes. “But I know when the moment comes, the words will come.”

 

“I love how not ready for this you are, considering, well you know, the worst possible outcome is my beheading.” Negan gave him a look so full of sarcasm it hurt. “Really, your thoughtfulness and preparedness astound me, my dove.”

 

“Shut your mouth.” Carl pouted at the older man. “You know it won't come to that.”

 

“Aye.” The knight craned forward and applied a chaste kiss to Carl's forehead. “Indeed I hope it doesn't.”

 

}{}{

 

“Your majesties!” The runner panted for breath and pointed towards the doors. “Young Prince Carl has returned! He's at the gates!”

 

Richard jumped up from his spot at the low table. “Thank the gods!” He rushed out the font gates, not caring if anyone followed after him or not. Just as the messenger had said, there stood Carl, looking somehow taller and more regal than he did a few short days ago. The King ran to embrace his son. “Carl!”

 

“Father.” Carl smiled into the hug, wrapping his arms tight around his father. “I'm sorry to have left without saying so first, but I knew if I had asked, you would not have let me go.”

 

“I'm just so happy that you're alright and that you've returned. What were you doing that I wouldn't have approved of?” Almost as if on cue, Negan stepped forward through the gates, handing off the reins of their horses to a stable boy. Immediately upset welled within him. “You...Carl, what is he doing here? I told you—”

 

“He is what I was doing that you wouldn't approve of.” Carl fought not to blush at his choice of words and hoped that his father wouldn't notice it either. “I went and personally fetched Negan because I want him here.”

 

“And you've gone and directly disobeyed me, once again, Carl! Do you think Kings get to gallivant off to who-knows-where whenever they feel? Do you think this is how a King acts?”

 

Their raised voices had drawn his family and even Ezekiel and Carol into the courtyard, all watching and waiting to see what would happen. Judith stood on tip toe to whisper something to Michonne who nodded, his mother simply stood towards the back, hands folded neatly in front of her with a look on her face as though she were waiting to summon the executioner at any moment, Carol and Ezekiel looked concerned, clasping each other's hand at their sides, but showed no sign of intervening.

 

“No. I do not. But do you think the way you're behaving is how a King acts either?” Carl was shaking where he stood, palms sweating but he felt microscopically more confident having stunned his father into silence. “I may not be King now, father, but someday I will be and when that day comes, I hope you can make peace with the decisions you've made while you ruled and with the unnecessary hatred you hold in your heart for a man who has done nothing but love and serve me. We have already forgiven you and had hoped you would forgive us, forgive me, as well because I will not be parted from him. If you send him away again, I will follow.”

 

The silence that fell after his little speech was deafening. He could hear the blood rushing and roaring through his ears, hear his heart thudding away behind his ribs. The look on his father's face was unreadable; he looked dumbstruck and frustrated, mouth opening and closing around silent syllables a few times.

 

“You—You're right.”

 

“What?”

 

“I said 'you're right.' You're infuriating, but you're right.” Richard placed his hands on his hips and looked down, huffing a quiet laugh. “And even if you weren't, I can see that I clearly am not going to win here.” He gestured between the two of them. “There's nothing for me to forgive,” walking over to Negan, he placed a careful hand on his shoulder “but I hope you can forgive me.”

 

“Like you said, your grace,” Negan looked taken aback that Richard was apologizing to him, brows shot up his forehead, eyes wide. “There's nothing to forgive.”

 

“You have to understand, I was afraid for my son for the first time since bringing you into the fold. In that moment, I questioned everything I thought I knew about you, I questioned my own judgment and thought I had failed. I thought I had chosen someone untrustworthy to watch over my son. But, even you coming here today, shows me that you would do whatever you can to protect him, even under penalty of death.”

 

“Y-yes, your grace. I couldn't— _wouldn't_ —let him ride back alone. I would do absolutely anything for Carl.” Negan licked his lips and straightened himself up to his full height, looking Richard in the eyes, speaking just loud enough that the three of them could hear. “I love him dearly.”

 

Richard just smiled. He didn't say anything but hugged Negan, patting his back as he would a brother. “I know.” He nodded at his son. “After what you said at breakfast, it had me thinking and Negan loving you made a lot of things make more sense in hindsight.” He gave them each a look as if to say 'I know what you two have been up to' and it made Carl's cheeks flush scarlet.

 

“But come, we were having lunch in the garden, both of you must be tired and hungry after your long ride, sit, eat, drink.” Richard turned and walked back towards the gardens, Lori, looking rather displeased, followed after him.

 

“I can't believe you spoke to father that way! And survived it!” Judith's voice lilted excitedly with each jaunty step. “I'm so happy for you, brother.”

 

“Thank you. I can't believe it went so well myself.” Honestly, it felt a little dream-like.

 

“All that matters is that it's said and done and you and Negan can be together now. Always, as you were meant to be.”

 

Judith and Carl sat across from each other at the low table, their knights at their sides, both content to chat and eat. The worst of it was over and he and Negan _had_ survived it. With his father's blessing of sorts, it looked as though they wouldn't be parted again any time in the near future and Carl wouldn't have it any other way.

 

 

 

}{}{

 

}{}{ THE END }{}{

 

}{}{

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

}{}{

 

 

 

 

The sun that rose the next day over the dunes surrounding Regnum was one of the most beautiful Carl could remember. The sky was painted in peach and rose petal pink and streaked with lilac and warm, golden sunlight poured in through the large open window of his room. And of course it was made all the better by the man laying behind him. They were both completely and unabashedly nude, Negan's arm slung about Carl's waist, breathing in big, heavy puffs in his sleep. He watched Negan sleep for a while, still in no small amount of disbelief that they were free to be this way, to simply exist as themselves.

 

Carl gently petted his knight's cheek. “Wake up...”

 

“Have they called us for breakfast yet?” Negan's brows furrowed and he turned onto his stomach, hiding his face in the pillow.

 

“Not yet, but—“

 

“Then it's not time to wake up.”

 

Carl rolled his eyes. “Well, I guess I'll just have to go luxuriate in the big, fancy bath house all by myself...” He paused, watching Negan. “...of course there will be other handsome, strapping knights such as yourself there, but it's of no matter...”

 

Negan propped up on his elbows and scowled at the Prince. “Carl Grimes if another man so much as looks at you strangely, I will personally kill them and tan their hide and turn them into a new pair of riding boots.”

 

“Then come on and keep me safe my big, strong knight.” Carl stood and stretched, letting the silky blankets slide from his form. He slipped on an embroidered robe and slippers and yawned while he waited for Negan to do the same.

 

~

 

“Can't believe anyone would want to soak in hot tub in this heat, gods above.” Negan groused as they stripped out of their robes and washed off with cool water before entering the room with the main baths. “I think I'm about to get first hand experience on what it feels like to be a boiled potato.”

 

“Stop it. You're being a big baby! You're going to love it.” Carl hissed quietly as he toed into the massive pool of fragrant, heated water. There was a slight teal hue to the water due to the minerals and oils mixed in.

 

“Ah, shit, that's hot.” Negan 'eeked' and 'owed' and groaned his way into the water, sitting beside Carl on the low, tiled bench. “Fuck it's hot...but it does feel good first thing...kind of loosens up your muscles.”

 

“See? Good idea, right?”

 

“Mm, I suppose.” Sighing, Negan stretched both arms out on the sides of the bath, leaning his head back on the edge. He looked incredible like that, so strong but relaxed and peaceful.

 

Carl made sure they were alone before he set the next part of his plan into motion. He stood and faced Negan, crawling into his lap and laying kisses all over his neck and jaw.

 

“Naughty boy,” Negan purred. “What if someone sees?”

 

“What do you think men come here to do, Negan?” Carl smirked, scraping his teeth dully over silvery stubble. “Not just bathe, that's for sure.”

 

“Are you serious?” For Negan to look even mildly affronted over something was hilarious. The self proclaimed unbotherable curmudgeon was in fact, a little bothered.

 

“Where do you think I learned about half the things I do to you?” He purred satiny-soft against Negan's throbbing pulse, his own picking up when he felt Negan's cock stir beneath him.

 

“You let other men touch you?” He did a pretty good job masking it, but there was still an underlying growl to Negan's voice. “What did you let them do?”

 

“Maybe I let them kiss me...” Carl kissed Negan's lips, a gentle peck, barely touching their lips. “...maybe I let them touch me...” He grabbed one of Negan's hands and directed it down between his thighs, living for the fire he saw blazing in Negan's hazelwood and gold eyes, moaning when Negan tightened his grasp on his hardened length. “...maybe...I let them inside me...”

 

Faster than Carl could react, Negan fisted his hair and yanked his head back. “You did no such thing.” Negan rumbled dangerous and possessive. “We both know I was the first to ever touch you...someone who isn't a virgin doesn't make the kind of noises you did, doesn't act so shy and blush quite so pretty as you did...” Negan ran the tip of his nose up Carl's throat, laughing coolly under his breath. “Do you remember that night? I do. Vividly. I remember how you begged, how you stripped yourself bare and laid yourself out on the bed, ripe and pretty pink and ready for the picking. I remember how you cried when I finally fucked you.”

 

“Fuck, Negan...” Carl's eye slipped shut, trying to keep himself together. He was so hard it hurt and Negan was stroking him too slow to satisfy. “I remember...I remember the look in your eyes when you touched my bare skin for the first time...” He was already panting, Negan's touch paired with the strength of the memory had his body reacting quickly. “...the pained sound you made right before you kissed me...I remember the way you sounded when you pushed into me, the pain, the ache, the delicious stretch...it still gives me shivers to this day.”

 

“Gods be damned,” Negan pulled him down into a rough kiss, teeth clacking together as their lips met. Blindly, Negan reached behind him, grabbing at the various bottles lined up along the edge. “Which one of these fucking bottles is oil?”

 

“Th-that one.” Carl pointed to a smoky glass jar with a curving handle and a glass stopper filled with sweet smelling coconut oil. He watched with mounting eagerness as Negan poured some into his hand and reached down into the water to coat himself as best he could. “Hurry hurry...”

 

“Impatient...” Negan smirked as he lined up and pushed in, watching Carl's face the entire time. It was mildly uncomfortable, the water not allowing him to be as thoroughly slicked as usual, but Carl was so used to the act, he barely minded.

 

Fingers digging into Negan's shoulders, toes curling, Carl sunk down the rest of the way onto Negan's cock, punching a moan that reverberated off the plaster walls right out of him. The water sloshed as he started to move, bouncing with sharp tight movements of his hips. They may have been alone now, but soon others would soon start filtering in and while this sort of thing was common place, Carl wasn't so sure he wanted a bunch of strangers watching them.

 

Negan seemed to sense his urgency and thrust his hips upwards, pushing as deep into Carl as he could. He ran his hands all over Carl's body, toying with his nipples, raking his nails down his back, fondling his cock and balls. He knew how Carl worked, what made him come apart the fastest and he did every one of those things, trying to coax his release from him.

 

Right when he thought he was going to climax, Carl heard water splash behind them and he jumped. The Prince peeked over his shoulder to see who had joined them—an older man with dark tanned skin and an impressive, well oiled beard and mustache. He watched them with mild interest, offering Negan a sly smirk when he peered over Carl's shoulder, and reclined back against the edge, closing his eyes.

 

“Come on, sweet boy, come for me.” Negan whispered in his ear. “Let's show him how sweet you sound when you cry out for me...just like you did that first night. 'Let me hear your swan song.'”

 

An image so perfect it nearly took his breath away popped into Carl's mind at the phrase. He remembered how the older man had tried to coax him through the pain so he could find release, how smooth his dulcet cadence had been as he told him how lovely he was, how much he loved him. It all had Carl building up and up but the thing he had said right as Carl came had been 'let me hear your swan song' and Carl would never forget those words so long as he lived.

 

Carl buried his face in the crook of Negan's neck, puppy sharp teeth digging into the muscle running along the tops of his shoulder, barely muffling the whimpering moans he let out as he spilled thick and copious between them. Negan stroked him through it lovingly, murmuring all sorts of sweet nothings in his ear until he fell boneless against him.

 

Negan grabbed Carl's hips, lifting him off his length and bringing him back down, using him for his own pleasure which was so rare, Negan almost always was the perfect gentleman with him, but Carl secretly loved. He clung to Negan letting out quiet moans and small 'Negan's as he allowed Negan to guide him towards his own completion. With a hard snap of the hips, Negan grunted and came inside the young Prince, filling him so full Carl thought it might leak out.

 

Shyly, Carl stood on shaky legs and made his way out of the communal bath, unable to meet the stranger's eyes for more than a passing glance. He offered an unfazed, appreciative smile and muttered something in a language Carl didn't understand. To his bewilderment, Negan muttered something back and they both chuckled.

 

Negan just grinned when Carl gave him a questioning look. “Wandering around as much as I have, you pick up a thing or two. He said you sounded just as angelic as you looked. I said you felt you felt like heaven...in case you were wondering.”

 

“You're incorrigible.” Carl swatted at Negan bashfully.

 

Negan shrugged and smirked again. “I'm only this way because you allow me to be.”

 

~

 

Breakfast with Ezekiel was always an affair. Truly, every meal with the King of Regnum was an affair. Every time the table was set lavishly and the food was served and plated in ways that looked like art. The tastes down here were a little different to what Carl was used to in Alexandria, but no less satisfying. Instead of eggs and sausage, today there was duck served in a smoky, spicy sauce and sweet rice and figs drizzled with honey served on bread with goat cheese.

 

Judith of course, had stacked her own plate full of honeyed figs and was happily tucking in while chatting with her knight. Carl had also opted for the bread and figs, still feeling a little flushed and hazy after the mornings activities. But he wasn't so out of it that he didn't remember the little plan he had concocted.

 

Almost as if on cue, Carl noticed Shiva lazing in the sunshine, sunning her fur, and smirked to himself, full of childlike mischievousness. While Negan was distracted talking with Michonne, he called her over with a bit of duck from his plate. Her big ears perked right up and she plodded over with unhurried steps to lay at Carl's side right between him and Negan. He kept feeding her small bits of meat while he waited for Negan to notice.

 

“Hey Negan, look at this cute kitty.” Carl tried to keep the giggle out of his voice, but it was pretty damn hard.

 

“Kitty...?” When he finally did take note of who, or what, was now beside him, Negan nearly jumped out of his seat. “Is that a fucking tiger?!”

 

Shiva snorted, looking up at Negan entirely unamused and uninterested. While Negan was still in shock, she leaned in and delicately grabbed the duck leg off Negan's plate and walked off back into the garden to sit and munch happily on it. Negan looked horrified the whole time, leaning as far away from the big cat as he possibly could until she was gone.

 

“You could've told me he owned a fucking tiger.” Negan leaned in to whisper to Carl.

 

Carl laughed and nudged Negan with his elbow. “Where would be the fun in that?”

 


End file.
